


My Baby

by evilsexdemon



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Babysitting, Bad Parenting, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Huddling For Warmth, Jesse is adorable, Kidnapping, M/M, Not a Love Story, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilsexdemon/pseuds/evilsexdemon
Summary: Skyler doesn't want Walter to see baby Holly anymore. Out of anger, he decides to take Holly away. Jesse reluctantly helps.





	1. Begin

“I don’t want you to see Holly anymore.”

Walter looked up from the papers on the table in shock. Skyler was holding Holly in her arms, gently shushing her and speaking softly as not to wake her. She gave Walter a stern look.

“But why? I thought-“ He’d thought everything was going well the past few weeks. He and Skyler had bought the car wash together, even celebrated after with alcohol and what he had considered some casual flirting. But then, Gus had seemingly decided he didn’t trust Walter anymore, and put him under constant supervision. He was being followed everywhere by one of the guys that worked at the laundromat. He’d tried to confront the guy, but he had just stood there, staring at him. Now, Walter was carrying his gun everywhere, and Skyler had noticed.

“I can see that there’s something going on. You’re antsy, all the time. You keep looking over your shoulder.” Skyler looked at Holly, and back at him. “I don’t want you to put her in danger. Hell, I don’t want you to put Walt Jr. in danger either, but he’s almost a grown man, now. Holly is a baby. She can’t defend herself.”

Walter opened his mouth, and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. He was sure Gus wouldn’t kill him if there were any witnesses. He was more careful than that. And Walter also wasn’t exactly convinced the guy would kill a baby. He was a complete psychopath, maybe, but he wouldn’t have a reason to. Walter eventually decided to settle on a soft “I won’t let her get in any dangerous situations.”

Skyler sighed, and shook her head. “We both know you can’t promise that. I’m not saying it’s forever. It’s just until whatever happened at work has settled down, alright?”

Defeated, Walter nodded. It was dark outside, but if he looked out of the window at the right angle, he could see a man sitting in a car, across the street, looking at him. Walter walked up to Skyler and gently kissed Holly’s forehead. “sleep well, baby.” He whispered, then looked up at Skyler and gave her a pointed look.

He said his goodbyes, grabbed his coat, and headed out. As he got into his car and drove off, the car from across the street followed him. When he got back to his apartment he sat down on the couch and buried his head in his hands. Holly. Everything was for his family- and he knew he would be able to see her again when this was all over, surely, but it was painful to work his ass off for them every day and not even be able to see them. Not just Holly either, but Walt Jr. recently stopped talking to him again. He was angry that Walter and Skyler hadn’t gotten back together yet. The absence of his family in his life made Walter less inspired, gave him less determination to work hard. He still did it, but it didn’t feel as good as it used to.

Walter stood up and got a beer from the fridge. He drank it while he checked his phone for messages from Saul or Jesse. Saul had left him a passive-aggressive voicemail about how even though buying the car wash had gone well he still wasn’t happy about it. Walter chuckled and shook his head, the guy probably only wanted him to buy that laser tag place so he could go there for free. Then, Walter put the TV on and tried to fall asleep to the comforting background noise of public access shows.

But something was bugging him. He grabbed another beer, this time drinking it down quicker than before. Checked his phone again. Nothing. Not even from Skyler, asking why he’d ran off. Even though she should know. Holly was his daughter, his baby. He could protect her just fine. But after his contract with Gus would end, she wouldn’t need protection. For the rest of her life, she’d live rich, in a nice house, going to a good school. Hopefully with two loving parents. But if Walter wouldn’t be able to see her now- what if she’d never get used to him? What if after this all ended Skyler decided he wasn’t allowed to see her anyway? What if Holly would grow up never knowing what her dad did for her?

Then, his phone rang, and he picked it up without even checking who it was. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Walter.” Skyler. Walter sighed, relieved. Maybe, just maybe she was calling to apologize about keeping Holly from him. “Yeah. Uh, is something wrong?” 

“Actually-” Skyler started, and Walter frowned. Had something happened? “Actually, I was calling about the money for Hank’s treatment.” 

Right, Hank. Shot by the same cartel that was looking for Walter. Really, he had to pay for the treatment. It was the least he could do since he felt like it was his fault. Right now though, it was getting on his nerves. Everything was getting on his nerves. What, she was going to take his daughter and his money? Christ.

“Yes, what about it?” Walter asked, walking over to the fridge to get a third beer, even though the second one wasn't completely empty yet. He slammed the fridge door hard, even though Skyler probably didn't hear it. 

“You have to send it over quick. The physiotherapy bills are piling up and if we don't do something soon he-” Skyler said, deadpan. But Walter interrupted her. 

“Yes, yes. I’ll send a check. What, do you want my money too?” Walter said, the second, sarcastic remark slipping out before he had a chance to stop it. The other end of the line was silent for a moment, but then he heard it. “What?” 

Angry, questioning, dissapointed, tired, all at once. But right now, Walter didn't have it in him to sympathize. “Never mind. I’ll send it over.” 

He hung up. He was seething. He’d given everything for Skyler and the kids. His job. His health, partly. His entire life had been ruined and rebuilt and she still wanted more. Well, maybe he should take something back. Something very, very important. 

The next while was a blur of driving, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and sneaking up to his old house and opening the door as silently as possible. He snuck through the hall and sighed, relieved, when he saw Skyler soundly asleep in bed. Next, he walked over to Holly’s room and looked at her. She was asleep, in her crib, wearing a familiar pink outfit they’d gotten as a gift from Marie. He picked Holly up as gently as possible, doing his best not to wake her, and put her in her travelling chair. Then, he grabbed plenty of diapers and some of her other, impossibly tiny clothes and put them in a bag he also took with him. When he neared the front door he briefly faltered, wondering if it was a good idea, but pressed on. She was his daughter. He deserved to have her, too. 

Back in the car he secured her in the fromt seat next to him. Still asleep. He shook his head fondly and started the car. As he drove away, he didn't even notice the car that had been following him since he left his own apartment. 

A few hours down the highway he realized he was a complete idiot. He just kidnapped a baby. His own baby, but still. He was tired, he was hungry, and Holly had just woken up and was making noises at him, indicating she was getting hungry, too.

He realized he couldn't do this, not on his own, when he was sitting in the restaurant underneath a roadside motel eating greasy fries while simultaneously feeding his daughter baby food. As he, without any joy, made airplane noises at her to get her to eat the damn stuff she clapped her little hands together with joy. Walter felt like he could pass out at any second. Where would he even go? Was he going to keep her with him forever? How could he raise a child without anyone ever finding them?

Two waitresses were looking at him in total adoration as he played with Holly, but he just glared at them until they looked away. 

He needed help. Needed help from someone who knew about this sort of stuff. His first choice was Saul, but he didn't pick up, either because he was sleeping or he was still mad about the laser tag thing. Gus was out of the question, because he was insane, and Mike just seemed to hate him. Well, one more choice then. Walt sighed and dialed the number. 

“Yo.” 

“Hello, Jesse.” 

“Why are you calling at like, five AM, dude? I could’ve been sleeping.” 

“Jesse.. I need your help.” 

-

Jesse Pinkman didn't know why, but after around ten minutes he found himself getting into his car to go to the meeting place Mr. White had proposed. Over the phone, the guy had sounded like he could die any minute. He hadn't wanted to go into detail, but he said he needed Jesse’s help, and nobody else could do it. Whatever that meant. Jesse put some music on and smoked a cigarette out of the car window while he drove through the endless desert. 

Eventually he reached the motel Mr. White said he was at. He parked his car and went upstairs to the third floor, as Mr. White had said. There, he walked past all doors until he found the one that had a door key stuck underneath it. He retrieved the key and opened the door. 

Mr. White was sitting on one of the beds, holding a baby. He looked absolutely exhausted, and the baby was babbling at him happily. “Ah, Jesse. There you are.” 

“Mr. White?” Jesse asked, genuinely dumbfounded. “I thought you'd been shot or something. The way you sounded over the phone-” 

“Jesse.” Mr. White said. “Could you… take care of her for a bit while I sleep? I haven't slept in about two days.” 

“Uh, sure.” Jesse said, because he technically didn't have a reason not to. He carefully grabbed the baby and held her, careful to support her head. “Is this Holly?” 

“Yeah.” Mr. White said, already laying down on the bed. “Just… take care of her a bit, alright?” 

“Right…” Jesse said, because he didn't really know what else to say. Mr. White rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, while Jesse, not sure what to do, sat down on the other bed. He looked at Holly. She stared at him curiously. 

“Sup, Holly.” Jesse said. He reached his hand out so she could grab it, and after a moment of uncertainty, her fingers closed around his pointer finger. “I’m Jesse.” 

Jesse looked over to where Mr. White was asleep on the other bed. This was a weird situation. Somewhere, though, he did feel kind of proud that out of all people, Mr. White had called him. That he trusted him with his daughter. It was a welcome change from their work together in the lab, where Mr. White was constantly yelling at him saying he was doing everything wrong. 

“What age are you, anyway?” Jesse murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Holly just blinked at him, and Jesse snorted. “The age where you just kind of.. sit around, huh. Figured.” 

He could already imagine what Mr. White would’ve said, were he listening in. ‘Jesse,’ he’d said, ‘aren't you still at that age? Because that's all you do.’ 

Jesse rolled his eyes even though Mr. White didn't actually say anything. 

He put on the TV at a low volume so Mr. White wouldn't wake up. He played with Holly for a while, attempting to play peekaboo with her. She didn't really seem to get it, but still giggled along with him anyway and clumsily clapped her hands together. Eventually, Jesse fed her a jar of baby food he found in a bag next to the bed, messily stuffed full of baby clothes and soft toys. He wondered why Mr. White was taking care of his daughter, especially in a motel in the middle of nowhere.

Eventually, Holly’s diaper needed changing, and after Jesse returned with her, clean and happy, from the motel bathroom, Mr. White was sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. Jesse felt a bit like a deer in headlights, but Mr. White signalled him to give Holly back and sit down. 

“You probably-” Mr. White said, yawning, “-have some questions.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Jesse said. 

Mr. White nodded. “Don't worry, son. I’ll explain everything.”


	2. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter and Jesse go on a car trip. Somehow, everything goes wrong.

Jesse was silent for a moment after Walter had finished telling his story. Then, he pulled a face. 

“What the fuck? Why would you do that?” he yelled, and Walter immediately shushed him, pointing at Holly. “Language.”

“Right. Then.. what the hell! You know what’ll happen when your wife calls the police, huh? They’ll do a background check on you- on us! And they’ll find out everything, yo. Maybe life in prison doesn't sound too bad to you since you’re like, seventy, but I have a whole life ahead of me!” Jesse yelled. Walter stared at him.

“Now that I’ve slept, it doesn't seem like a great idea, either. But, hindsight is 20/20.” Walter said, and shrugged. Arguing wasn't going to get them anywhere, and neither was panicking. He’d done something very stupid, and now he needed a plan. But Jesse was staring at him like he’d just confessed that he’d murdered someone.

“Twenty fucking twenty? What? Where are you even going to take her? Is this a permanent thing?” Jesse asked. He raked a hand through his short hair. “You’re gonna need a fake I.D. and- and a house, and you’re never going to be able to go to a hospital, because, like, they’ll take your blood and match it with your old personality, and, like, arrest you and shit.” 

Walter had to admit that it didn't sound ideal. This whole thing had just been a way to teach Skyler a lesson. It was day already, and she must've realized Holly was gone by now. He swallowed, and met Jesse’s gaze. 

“Look,” Walter said, calmly, “Skyler knows better than to call the police. The moment she’ll notice Holly is gone, she’ll call me.” 

“What are you gonna tell her?” Jesse asked, softer now, Walter’s change in tone having calmed him down, too. He bit his lip a bit. 

“I don’t know.” Walter said. Then, he stood up, and put Holly in the travel chair. “What I do know, however, is that we have both been spotted here, and we need to go, in case anyone's following us.” 

“We?” Jesse asked. Walter nodded, packing all of his stuff into the big bag next to the bed. “I need your help, Jesse. I'm going to leave my car here, and you’re going to drive me to the next big city.” 

“Fuck.” Jesse said, groaning. “You know what the stupid thing is? I'm actually going to do it.” 

Walter already knew that, but still wanted to know Jesse's own explanation. He always knew he had some kind of effect on the younger man, whether it was because he used to be his teacher or it was just Walter’s general personality and they way he acted. Walter smiled a bit, coaxing Jesse into continuing to talk. 

Jesse sighed. “Yeah, forreal. I’ll do it. But not for you. For Holly. Cause I'm pretty sure you coming home with her now would be a total shitstorm. With you and your wife fighting and shit like that.” 

“Thank you, Jesse.” Walt said, fighting the urge to make a sarcastic remark. He started zipping up the bag full of Holly’s stuff while Jesse shifted from one foot to another, impatiently. 

“Besides,” Jesse continued, much softer, “you must love her a lot if you're willing to do this.” 

Walter’s smile faltered, and he immediately felt guilty. He hadn't done it because he loved Holly, he’d done it to hurt Skyler. Or maybe out of principle, rather. His child, his property, or something along those lines. But he smiled again, because Jesse believing what he did was actually rather helpful for Walter’s cause. He figured he’d go to the next town over, try to negotiate with Skyler when she called and come back home with Holly if she agreed to let him see her. If she didn't, then.. well, he wasn't sure yet. Continue traveling, he supposed. Call Saul, get a new identity. He grimaced, because it didn't exactly sound like an ideal future. 

But it didn't matter. Skyler would agree to his conditions, he was sure of it. Plus, he was also pretty sure the guy Gus sent to follow him around had lost him on the way to the motel. If he didn't, he still probably wouldn't catch on that Walter was in Jesse’s car rather than his own from now on. So Skyler had nothing to worry about, and neither did Walt. 

They walked downstairs, Walter holding the bag and Jesse holding Holly. Holly had since fallen asleep and Jesse was rocking her gently in the travel chair. Walt paid for the room and they walked to Jesse's car and got in. 

The sun was high up in the sky by now. Jesse and Walter sat in front, with Holly safely strapped in in the back. While they drove on the road through the desert, Jesse smoked a cigarette out of the window and tapped along to the beat of the music on the radio with his other hand. They didn't speak much. The next town over wasn't very far away, so they didn't really need to. 

Walter mostly looked around, at the road in front of them, at Holly (still sound asleep) and at Jesse. The guy had recently shaved most of his hair off, and Walter was still getting used to it. He didn't really know why Jesse did it, either. Lately, he’d stopped caring about what clothes he wore, and what other people saw when they looked at him. Maybe his hair was too much work, and he’d decided to shave it all off. Maybe he could get Jesse to travel with him further. He was loyal to a fault, and clearly adored Holly. Also, Walter didn't really want to admit it, but he liked Jesse's company, too. Ever since all of this started- the cancer, the cooking, the murders- Jesse had been the one constant in his life. Even Skyler had left him. But Jesse wouldn't. 

“What’re you looking at?” Jesse asked at one point, without even moving his head. But Walter just shrugged, and stared at the first buildings coming into view, instead. 

They were nearing the city center when Walter's phone started to ring. He signaled for Jesse to pull over and picked it up. 

“Is she safe?” Were the first words he heard, in Skyler’s sick-and-tired voice. 

“Hello, Sky. Not even going to say good morning?” Walter replied. Jesse frowned at him, but Walter waved it away. 

“Walt. Is she safe?” Skyler repeated. Walter sighed. “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s safe. I’ve got her. What is it?” 

Skyler sighed in relief. “Alright. That's good. You do know that if we were in any other situation, I would already have called the police?” 

“Yes, I know that. But I also know that you’re not that stupid. If you go to the police, they’ll find everything, the money laundering, the meth cooking.. you’ll lose all the money I’ve made for Junior and Holly, plus, since you helped me with the car wash, you’ll probably go to jail, too.” Walter spoke matter-of-factly, in case Skyler hadn’t thought of this, yet. Skyler, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply. Jesse, next to him, had one of his ears turned towards Walter in hopes of catching the other side of the conversation.

“You need to bring her back, Walt. You need to. She’ll be safe with me. I understand how hard it is not to see her, but, Jesus, Walt! This isn’t the way to show that! If you bring her back now, we’ll- we’ll talk about it over dinner, alright?” Skyler asked. Sweet, sweet victory. Walter smiled, and at seeing this, Jesse put his thumb up and tilted his head sideways, as if asking ‘is it good?’. Walter nodded. 

“Thank you, honey.” Walter said. On the road next to them, cars drove past. Walter looked at them while he and Skyler exchanged small talk about how Walt Jr. was doing in school. Suddenly, he saw something he wished he hadn't seen. 

He put his phone away while yelling at Jesse to drive. Confused, Jesse did, and soon they were back on their way out of town. 

“Where are we going?” Jesse asked after a while. Walter had spent the entire drive looking over his shoulder or out the window. Jesse nervously bit his lip, trying not to let it get to him. The other man looked in the rear-view mirror once more before turning to face him. 

“A few days ago, Gus Fring decided I wasn't to be trusted anymore. Since then, he’s told one of his guys to follow me around constantly, to make sure I wasn't doing anything suspicious. I thought I’d lost him when I changed cars, but while I was on the phone, he drove past, looking at us.” Walter explained. Jesse pulled a face. “He’s following you? What the hell, man?” 

“I’m not sure why. I mean, if he wanted to kill me, he would've just done it.” Walter said. And that did make sense. What didn’t make sense, however, is that he didn’t want to kill Walter. He knew what would happen if he died. Jesse would take over the cooking. Ever since Gale died, there weren’t any suitable people to pick up after Walter was gone. First, Gus hadn’t wanted to work with junkies. But he didn’t have a choice now. Walter was a liability. He was too dangerous, demanded too much. Knew too much. Gus probably thought Jesse was too meek, too good at following orders to follow in Walter’s footsteps. But Gus didn’t know Jesse well at all. 

He only did what Walter said, see.

“But-” Jesse started, but closed his mouth again, staring at the road in front of him. The desert surrounding the car, et cetera. Walter looked around to Holly again, confirming she was still fine. “But what?” 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” Jesse said. “If they’re going to kill you, who’s taking over the lab?” 

Walt fought the urge not to facepalm. “You are. They’re going to kill me, or imprison me, or ship me off to Mexico, whatever, and they’re going to put you in my place.” 

“Why?” Jesse asked. “If they think you’re dangerous to them, why don’t they think that about me?” 

“Because-” 

At that moment, Jesse’s phone started to ring. His ringtone was a low-quality recording of a rap song he’d probably taken himself. Jesse picked it up with his right hand, keeping the left on the steering wheel. “Sup.” 

Jesse talked a bit, even laughing at one point. Walter looked back again, at Holly, and further down the road. No sign of the car that had been following them. Even others with the same color, red, made Walter nervous. They’d have to lay low. No next town over for them. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and googled for nearby campsites on the phone’s shitty internet browser. 

“Are you sure?” Jesse asked to the person on the other side of the phone, all color draining from his face. “Then why are you calling me? I thought you were one of their guys. Oh, really? Huh. But- what do I do now? What do we do now? You can’t just-” 

Frustrated, Jesse clicked his phone shut and threw it into the backseat, narrowly missing Holly. Walt was going to be mad at him, but Jesse said something, and the way he sounded made all Walter’s anger go away to be replaced with fear and numbness.

“That was Mike. He- He called to say that Gus thinks that you’re.. fucking.. running away from him. And he thinks that you’re forcing me to come with you, like, at fucking gunpoint, or something. And.. he suggests that we run.” Jesse said. His voice wasn’t shaking, like he was too surprised to even be scared.

“Are you sure he was warning you?” Walter asked, scrolling through campsites in the area. Most of them were only for people with RVs, the desert not being a perfect place to put up a tent. But about 26 miles away- according to the phone, at least- there was something promising. 

“What do you mean?” Jesse asked. “And.. what do we do?” 

“I know a place where we can lay low. But you need to drive us over there. Is that alright?” Walter spoke softly, trying not to scare Jesse. Sometimes Jesse was just like a scared cat. Be gentle with them, hold your hand out, and eventually they’ll let you pet them. Jesse took his sweet time before he nodded. “What about Holly?”

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll do anything to protect her, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

-

Jesse was scared. But on the other hand, he wasn’t. 

They’d stopped driving at some campsite next to a small city. There were plastic trees all around, and some slightly sadder looking real ones. They dumped the car in a parking lot in town and walked back, Holly in Mr. White’s arms. Mr. White rented a place near the edge under the name ‘Walter Blue’, which Jesse found both stupid and oddly endearing. They also rented a two person tent. Jesse carefully rocked Holly back and forth while Mr. White talked to the lady behind the desk. Holly really was adorable, and one of the most well-behaved babies he’d ever seen in his life. 

Jesse tried not to think about what was happening while they pitched the tent on a patch of grass. Tried not to think about the death sentence hanging over him while they settled in. He was cautiously optimistic that when he’d wake up tomorrow everything would somehow be alright. But then, when Holly started crying, probably hungry or missing her mom, and she didn’t stop after he fed her and after Mr. White changed her diaper, Jesse started to lose it. 

He sat down on one of the uncomfortable lawn chairs that had already been on their patch when the got there, and buried his face in his hands. Behind him, Mr. White was softly singing to Holly, trying to get her to calm down. But she wouldn’t. Soon, their neighbors would come over, and they would see them, and-

“She needs to get out of here.” Spoke Mr. White, plopping down in the chair next to him, leaving Holly in her chair in the grass. Jesse stared at him. 

“What happened to protecting her with your life, and shit?” Jesse asked, voice soft. It was an attempt at a joke, but neither of them were laughing. Mr. White let out some sort of weird howl-like laugh and stuck his arms out in the air. “I’m done.” 

“What?” 

“I’m done, Jesse. I can’t- I can’t protect her like this. We’ve just become some of the most sought after people in the state, heck, in the country, probably, and we’re sitting here-” he let out another laugh, “-in a tent, with a crying baby. Look, you? I can handle. I can protect. But her?” 

“Because.. I don’t cry as loud as she does?” Jesse asked, and Walter was silent for a moment, and then they both started laughing. Laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes, actually. This was ridiculous, and they were probably going to die, but the idea of Jesse sitting up in a tent crying like a baby was somehow more influential than all that. 

After a bit, Mr. White wiped the tears from his eyes, and stood up. “I’m going to call Saul.” 

Jesse remained in his chair, silently wondering how Mr. White was planning on protecting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. dear lord. sorry that update took so long. 
> 
> I'll be honest, I don't really have a clue where I'm going with this. But, I do want to finish this, so I'd appreciate if you guys went along for the ride. OH, and uhh.. please leave comments or kudos if you want me to continue this! It means a lot!


	3. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saul comes to pick up Holly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so in this chapter, if you couldn't figure it out, the first part is the morning after what happened, and the second part happens right after where chapter 2 left off. enjoy! this was probably my fave chapter to write so far.

For some reason, Saul Goodman found himself standing in a campsite parking lot at five AM. Well, he did have a reason. And that reason was Jesse Pinkman.

The previous evening he’d been sitting at his desk, finishing the last bits of a particularly nasty case he was working on, when he’d gotten a phone call. He groaned when he saw who it was. ‘Heisenberg’. Walter White. He did bring Saul good money, but whenever the guy came anywhere near him he already knew there would be trouble. Walter was lucky he brought a lot of money in, because otherwise, Saul would’ve already cut ties with him. First the stuff with trying to go behind Jesse’s back, then for some reason bringing his estranged wife to all their meetings-

Poor Jesse always seemed to sink back into the couch as far as possible when Walter was screaming at Saul again. Saul didn’t dislike Jesse. He was alright, for a shitty drug dealer. For a kid with too many responsibilities. So when Saul got a jumbled call from Walter asking him to babysit, he asked where Jesse was.

“Here, with me.” Walter had said, and when Saul asked why Jesse couldn’t babysit, Walter told him to just come over, and they’d explain everything once they were face to face. A bit nervously, Saul had gotten into his car, wondering why he didn’t just ask Mike to do it. Then again, he’d sort of ran out of favors with that one. Saul wasn’t stupid, either. He knew of Walter and Jesse’s involvement with Gus, and knew Mike also worked for him. If Walter needed a babysitter, whatever that meant, or if he was in danger, there was a big chance it was because Gus was after him. If Saul told Mike the location, Mike would tell Gus, and Saul would end up with two dead clients and zero cents to his name. 

The parking lot was pretty empty, and Saul looked around while locking his car. To the left was the entrance of the campsite Walter had told him to go. Saul had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t doing this because he cared for the guy, but Walter had just mumbled something incomprehensible and hung up the phone.

He grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket and texted Walter that he was there. He waited around anxiously, wishing he had a cigarette, or something, if only to have something to do while he waited. He looked at the rising sun and the way it turned the whole sky a bit pink. 

“Sup.” came a voice from behind him, and Saul went rigid and turned around. Jesse. Jesse, holding a baby in a baby car seat. ‘Mr. White’ nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, kid.” Saul said, oddly relieved. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Jesse looked very tired, with red eyes like he’d been rubbing at them. He was silent as he lifted up the baby in the chair, as to show Saul that yes, he did have the baby. Oddly, it reminded Saul of a drug deal. ‘Do you have the goods?’ ‘yeah.’ and then some tattooed six foot five guy would hand the customer a baby. Saul chuckled at his own thoughts, and Jesse frowned at him. 

“Whatever. Uh. This is Holly. She’s Mr. White’s daughter, and, uh, he wants you to take her to her mom.” Jesse said it carefully, like he’d written and practised this speech a few times. Who knows, maybe he had. Saul held his arms up, as if saying ‘what?’ exaggeratedly.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Pinkman! Are you really going to keep me in the dark about what’s going on?” he got closer and almost whispered the next part. “I am your lawyer, you know. I really should know what you’re up to. Is the police after you?” 

“No, jesus, Saul. Alright.” Jesse walked to Saul’s car and put the baby in the chair on the front. Jesse sighed. “Look, some of Gus’ dudes are totally fucking us over. Mr. White needed my help with driving him somewhere, so I did, and now they think we were gonna flee over the border so we didn’t have to cook for them anymore. So basically we’re hiding out.” 

“Okay, I get that part. But where in this story does the baby come in?” Saul asked. 

“Does it matter?” Jesse asked, almost taunting him. Saul looked at him with disappointment on his face. “Yes! Yes, it does! Why is the baby here? Why did you two, when you heard you were being hunted down and murdered, think ‘hey, I know what I’ll do. I’ll take Walter’s baby daughter with me. That’ll just greatly improve the situation.’”

Jesse groaned. “That isn’t what happened! You- he-” 

Saul’s face softened at the younger man’s frustration, and he decided to drop it. “Nevermind, Jesse. Just tell me one thing.” 

He grabbed the baby chair from the front of his car, careful not to scratch the paint. Jesse put his hands in his pockets, preparing to walk off again. “What?” 

“Are you- uh. No, wait, let me ask it differently. Do you need any other help?” 

“I don’t know.” Jesse said. “All this.. Mr. White says we just have to lay low and wait for all of it to blow over. So, I’m, like, settled, you know. For now. He seems to have a plan.” 

“Alright.” Saul said, but he didn’t smile. “Still. You have my phone number.” 

“Yeah.” Jesse replied, uncomfortably. He took his hand out of his pocket and gave a half-wave as a greeting. “See you later.” 

“See you later, Pinkman.” Saul said, and unlocked the car again, putting the baby in the seat beside his. If anyone asked, he would just be uncle Saul, babysitting for a lovely couple of friends of his. A lovely couple going through a troubled divorce, and they needed someone to take care of the little one. That made sense. Yeah. 

He sighed as he drove off the parking lot and onto the street. He just hoped Jesse would call. He always seemed to be the one who had gotten roped into this without wanting to. Jesse wouldn’t kidnap a baby. The kid loved kids. Got all messed up over that guy Spooge and his lady, and the little kid they had in their house that couldn’t even talk well. He’d probably wanted to have kids with his girlfriend, the one who died. Saul shook his head. The kid wasn’t in the right line of work to have dreams like that. The best Saul could do was offer a way out. He just hoped Jesse knew that that was what he was offering.

-

Jesse sat in his lawn chair, listening to Mr. White on the phone with Saul. Behind him, Holly was starting to settle down. Probably tired herself out with all that crying. It was good that she was going back to her mother, probably. Mr. White loved Holly to bits, but that didn’t mean he would necessarily be a good parent. They would probably have to hide out for a long time, a few months, maybe even more. That would just be around the time Holly would start walking, Jesse guessed. She needed to live in a house with a big backyard she could play in. Not in a tent, with her dad, and her dad’s reluctant business partner. Probably freezing their asses off every night. It was already getting colder, and it wasn’t even dark yet.

Mr. White came back. He nodded to Jesse, and sat down. “Saul’s coming tomorrow.” 

“Oh, good.” Jesse said, and Mr. White eyed him suspiciously. Jesse continued. “I mean, uh. How do you feel about it?” 

“That’s an interesting question.” Mr. White mused. “I suppose I am a bit disappointed. The whole reason I’m here has just.. gone. But on the other hand, my daughter will be safer with Skyler. And that’s all I really want.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Jesse said. They were silent for a moment. The sky was now a dark blue, but not pitch black yet. “Bet it’s gonna be cold tonight. Uh, do you remember that time when we were cooking and we had to sleep out in the desert? Coldest I’ve ever been, yo. You were wearing one of my hoodies.” 

Jesse laughed at the revelation, but Mr. White didn’t laugh along with him. He looked at Jesse sternly. “We were stranded in the desert because of you.” 

Jesse stopped laughing. “Yeah. S’pose so.” he wondered if Mr. White was still mad about that. Oddly enough, it had probably been one of his favorite cooks. Not that he ranked any of them- but the feeling of it, after they were all done, with Mr. White calculating how much money they were going to make, it’d been awesome. Even if Jesse had messed up, and they’d been stuck there for a while. The euphoria from when they finally figured out how to start the RV had lingered for days, a high that couldn’t be replicated by any drug Jesse knew.

Mr. White slapped his knees and stood up. “I think we should go to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow, we need to find a new car, and travel further.” 

“Really? It’s like, 9 PM, man.” Jesse complained. “Plus, do we even have any blankets, or something? And how are we gonna fit into that tent, all three of us?” 

Mr. White rolled his eyes, or at least, Jesse thought he did, because it was pretty dark already. “We’ll fit just fine. This is a two person tent. And Holly is a baby. And who camps with blankets?” 

“Aren’t babies, and like, elderly people more easily affected by cold or warm weather?” Jesse asked, and Mr. White gave him a confused look. Jesse shrugged. “That’s what the nurses said about aunt Ginny. That she was getting older, so I needed to check the temperature like, all the time. And she was always under at least three blankets.” 

“Maybe you’re right.” Mr. White said. “I’ll go see if that camping store is still open. You stay put.” 

Jesse wanted to argue that he didn’t really have anywhere to go, but decided not to, and instead sat in silence, watching Mr. White walk away. 

He crawled into the tent and checked on Holly, who had indeed exhausted herself so much she’d fallen asleep. Carefully, Jesse took his coat off and draped it over her. It was probably much warmer than a blanket, because the inside was lined with fur. She stirred, but settled back down, and Jesse sighed in relief. He patted her on the head gently. 

“Your daddy loves you very much, Holly.” Jesse said. “Despite what he says. A’ight?”

She didn’t answer, but he hoped she appreciated the sentiment anyways. He wasn’t sure why he said it, but it felt important at that moment. The tent moved a bit behind him, and Jesse turned around to see Mr. White crawling inside, holding his phone screen out in front of him as a makeshift flashlight. In his other hand he held a singular flimsy-looking plaid blanket. “It’s all they had.” he said, as a greeting.

“I uh… gave Holls my coat.” Jesse said, fishing for some kind of validation, or a pat on the back, or something. Mr. White sat down next to him on the tent canvas, holding the blanket out to him. He grabbed it. “Holls?”

Jesse hadn’t even noticed he’d said it. He blushed a bit, and wasn’t sure why. Thankfully, it was fully dark in the tent and Mr. White couldn’t see it. “I dunno, man. It’s just a nickname.” 

Mr. White was silent for a moment, and Jesse couldn’t see his face, so he didn’t have any idea what the other man was thinking. Finally, Mr. White took off his coat and laid down on the cold ground, after which he draped the coat over himself. Jesse, having already given his coat to Holly, laid down next to him and threw the blanket over his legs. It wasn’t that cold yet, but it was getting a bit chilly. 

“Do you think it’s going to be cold?” Jesse asked softly. Mr. White had taken his glasses off and put them next to Holly’s chair so he wouldn’t accidentally roll over them. He rolled onto his back and sighed. “You’re a grown man, Jesse. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“I didn’t mean it for me!” Jesse said, a bit too quick and too defensively. “I mean for Holly.”

Mr. White let out a laugh. Jesse frowned, but decided to drop the subject. He rolled over on his side, facing away from Mr. White. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Behind him, Mr. White moved once more, to give Holly a goodnight kiss and whisper “Good night, Holls” to her. Jesse felt a bit proud when he heard him using his nickname. 

Jesse woke up a few hours later, suddenly. The first thing he noticed was that it was pitch black outside. Then that it was raining. Then, finally, that he was freezing his ass off. Thoughts of the tent flooding filled his mind and he started to panic. “Oh, shit. Oh shit oh shit-”

“What?” Mr. White mumbled from beside him. Jesse turned over to face him, ignoring the fact that they were very close to each other. “The tent. It’s going to flood, and then we’ll- and Holly-”

“Christ, Jesse.” Mr. White whisper-spoke, and rubbed his eyes. “It’s barely drizzling. The tent isn’t going to flood.” 

Jesse felt cold right down to his bones, and he shivered, despite the blanket. “Y-you sure?” he asked, feeling as if he would spontaneously die if Mr. White would say he wasn’t.

“Yes. it’s been raining for a while, but no thunder or lightning. If the tent floods, we’ll be the first ones to notice. Holly’s safe in her chair because it’s higher up, alright?” Mr. White said. Jesse nodded, even though Mr. White couldn’t see it. 

He breathed in deeply and exhaled again. Actually, the sound of the rain on the tent was kind of calming, now that he knew they weren’t going to flood. Another shiver went through his body, and he reflexively hugged himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

“It’s cold, huh.” he said, softly. 

“Yes.” came Mr. White’s matter-of-fact reply. Somewhere far away a car started and drove off. Other than that, the rain was the only sound filling Jesse’s ears. 

Jesse tried to ignore it, but no matter which way he laid down, no matter which way he laid down the blanket, draped it over himself- he was cold. Out of frustration tears were starting to form in his eyes and he felt so ridiculous he slapped himself in the face.

“Jesse.” Mr. White said. Jesse turned around and snapped. “What?”

“Come here.” Mr. White held up his coat, so Jesse could slip under easily. The thought of that warmth- under Mr. White’s coat, with his body warmth, and the added blanket… made Jesse want to very badly. But.. that was weird, right?

“W-Why?” Jesse asked, because he couldn’t really think of any other way to stall. Mr. White sighed again, the thing he always did when Jesse said something he found stupid. “We don’t have a heater here. If the cold is bothering you, which it obviously is, the best thing we can do is share body heat. You don’t want to risk getting hypothermia, do you?” 

“Hypothermia is the thing they said I should watch out for for aunt Ginny. Isn’t that only for old people and-” he managed a laugh. “I think you’re just projecting because you’re cold, because you’re like, elderly. And now you want my body warmth.” 

“Believe whatever you want to believe.” Mr. White said, and once again held up the coat he was using as a blanket so Jesse could slip under.

Fuck it, Jesse decided, and did just that. 

The warmth was glorious. Not only was the blanket warm, but the place on the ground he was laying on had somehow been warmed up, too. And most of all, Mr. White felt like an oven. Jesse closed his eyes in bliss, barely noticing that Mr. White was grabbing the blanket from him and putting it over them both as he was already drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, again, uh.. please leave kudos or a comment if you liked it. Or if you absolutely hated it. would like to know either way, lol.


	4. Denver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter has a plan. Jesse is sleepy.

When Jesse woke up the next morning, he was covered in both the coat and his blanket. Holly was gone, and so was Mr. White. After stretching, he put on his own coat and crawled outside, only to find Mr. White sitting on one of the chairs feeding Holly breakfast. The breakfast in question was some sort of fruit puree from a jar. “Sup.”

“Good morning, Jesse. Sleep well?” Mr. White asked without looking at him. But he did smile, a weird, self-satisfied smile that lead Jesse to believe he was referencing the body heat thing from last night.

“Uh, yeah.” Jesse said, feeling himself blush a bit. He watched Mr. White feed Holly while he smoked his morning cigarette. Then, Mr. White’s phone buzzed. He gave Jesse the jar of baby food and the spoon and went to reply to a text. 

Jesse crouched down in front of Holly, who looked at him with wide eyes. The baby food smelled like applesauce, but there had to be something like crushed-up biscuits in it to get this texture. Holly seemed to like it, though, because the moment she saw the jar she reached her little hands out to grab it. Jesse grinned and put some on the spoon. “You want this?” He asked, holding the spoon up high, and Holly laughed and tried to reach for it. Jesse made some air plane noises while he brought the spoon to her mouth and she was smiling so brightly she almost forgot to eat it. Jesse’s heart melted. 

He was going to miss Holly. 

He fed Holly a few more bites before he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He looked around to find Mr. White, looking a bit down. “Saul is here. We best get Holls ready before he gets impatient.”

“Oh, uh. Alright.” Jesse said. They said their last goodbyes and Mr. White instructed Jesse to bring Holly to Saul on his own, while he stayed behind and brought the tent and blanket back to the office. About half an hour later they were walking down the street, the two of them, only a small bag of money between them. 

-

Walter was busy thinking of a way for them to get out of the state without being noticed. They needed a car, but they didn't have a lot of money. They either had to find a really old, cheap car or they would spend all their money and be in trouble the moment they crossed state borders. What was the best course of action? Continue driving or settle down? Did they have to cook meth again, or did they have to get real jobs?

It was all a bit too long-term, and this line of thinking didn't really suit Walt. It was just him and Jesse against the world, now. And it was his fault in the first place that Jesse was with him. If he hadn't asked for help with Holly…

No, it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have possibly known that all that would lead to this. He sighed, and Jesse looked at him curiously. “Where did you say that dealership was?” 

“Just a few blocks away. Why, are you tired already?” Walter asked. Jesse glared at him. “No, bitch. That's not what I meant. I'm hungry.” 

Hungry he could deal with. If Jesse was going to act like a fussy baby the whole way to the car, Walt might’ve felt compelled to speed off on his own. He stopped, hands on his hips like a disappointed controlling father and waited until Jesse stopped walking, too. “Fine, we’ll get some breakfast. But we have to be quick. You know w-” 

“Yes, dad.” Jesse snapped, sarcastically. “I saw a 24 hour restaurant on the way here.” 

They ate pancakes from a big pile that was already cold by the time it got to their table. Jesse was too focused on his food to even talk, and hungrily ate a few before even thinking about taking a sip of the orange juice Walter had ordered for him. To be honest, Walter hadn’t even thought about it, before asking for two plates of pancakes and two glasses of orange juice. It was just what he used to have at home every morning, and what he used to order for Junior when they went out for breakfast. The lady taking their order had said that it would probably be cheaper for them to order one ‘mega’ stack instead, so they did.

Chuckling to himself, Walter realised he was treating Jesse as his child. Well, it did fit what Jesse had called him earlier. ‘Dad’. Walter was confused that he was able to laugh at things like this in the situation they were in. Somehow, he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t really feel like he was on the run, right now, in this restaurant with the light filtering down through the window they were sitting at. The sky was blue, it was getting warm, but not too warm, and really, he could take a break from planning for a moment. 

Jesse gulped down his whole glass of orange juice, and practically beamed as he said “I haven’t had that in years.” 

“You haven’t?” Walter asked, confused. Jesse nodded while stuffing his mouth with another bite of pancake. Walter had barely finished his first one. “Yeah. When I was like, real little, my mom used to make her own. She bought oranges at the farmers market and made orange juice in the juicer at home.” 

“That seems like a lot of work for just some orange juice.” Walter said. 

“We didn’t go there just for oranges. It was just a day trip, with the family. Before Jake was born. We… we used to do a lot more stuff together. But then I went to high school and my parents decided I was a big fucking dissapointment. And then I moved to Ginny’s house.” Jesse said. He seemed to fondly remember going on trips with his parents. “I guess I’ll never see them again, now.” 

Walter winced. “You’re right.” He said, not wanting to sugar coat it. Jesse wasn’t stupid. “But that’s a good thing. Because the further we are away from our families, the safer they are. And you want to keep your family safe, right?” 

“I guess so.” Jesse admitted. He stared melancholically at his empty glass of orange juice. 

For the second time that morning they walked down the road to the car dealership. Jesse didn’t say much else after the conversation about his parents. He looked sad. It was odd that he missed his parents even though they were never really nice to him. Maybe he rather missed the idea of them. Walter had met Jesse’s parents once or twice, when he had to discuss his grades with them, and they always seemed not to care. Well, they seemed disappointed, but they didn’t seem to want to help him. As if they’d already given up hope on him. Walter could imagine that Jesse’s home life hadn’t been ideal, waking up every day knowing the most important people in your life have given up on you. 

Maybe, Walter thought, he could be a more positive influence in Jesse’s life. It wasn’t like he had anyone else, and… for some reason, Walter felt sorry for the kid. Skyler hadn’t loved him in a long while, and Junior liked Hank better than his own dad. Walter had already mourned those losses. But Jesse was only starting out now.

The car dealership was run by a small balding man who ran around excitedly showing them all the cars he was selling for cheap. They eventually settled on the least flashy car they could find: a red, round looking thing from a relatively unknown brand. It didn’t even have a CD player, and Jesse was sure to point that out. When the salesman had gone inside to fetch something Walter had quickly hissed that they probably wouldn’t keep this car for long, either, and that Jesse should stop complaining.

The salesman started sweating even more than he already was when Walter paid for the car with cash and immediately drove it out instead of picking it up later. Jesse sat in the shotgun seat and rubbed his arm from where he’d accidentally leaned on the roof of the car and got a bit of a burn. “You sure this guy wasn’t one of Gus’?” 

“No?” Walter asked, incredulously, but stopped himself. “Er, why do you think that?” 

“Well.. he was sweating a lot. And he almost shit his pants when you gave him the money.” Jesse explained. He grabbed a cigarette from his pack and lit it, even though this was probably the newest car he’d ever been in. Walter rolled his eyes, but Jesse’s mind was elsewhere. 

“That’s just because we bought a car with cash. That’s suspicious. Using cash means you don’t want to be tracked. I’m fairly certain he isn’t secretly working with Gus and his goons.” Walter said. “But good job on staying vigilant, son.” 

“Uh, right. Thanks.” Jesse said, and looked out the passenger side window to hide the fact he was blushing. Walter felt like he could just about melt right now. He knew the kid loved compliments- that time they were stuck in the desert and he’d gotten one chemistry question correct he’d beamed- but this time it made Walter feel happy. Maybe this was how normal people felt when they complimented people. Or maybe this was just another sign that Walter could manipulate Jesse really well. 

Walter drove them onto the highway, once in a while instinctively checking the backseat to see if Holly was alright, only to realize he left her with Saul. Instead, he checked on Jesse, who was taking slow drags from his cigarette and lit a new one the second his last one was done. 

“So, uh, what’s our plan? Where are we going?” Jesse asked. He didn’t have his seatbelt on, and it made Walt antsy. “We’re going to keep driving until we’re in Colorado, and then we’ll drive on, see where we end up.”

“You mean we’re not going across the border?” Jesse asked, with a look as if Walter had basically just turned them in to Gus’ people. Walter felt like all the pride he’d felt just a moment ago had washed away. “Of course not. The cartel operates from Mexico. Gus’ operation largely operates in Mexico. If we go there, we’ll make it easier for them to catch us. I was thinking… Canada, actually.” 

“Canada.” Jesse said. He frowned. “Canada, huh. I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Let me guess, you didn’t expect to end up there this way?” Walter said, deadpan. He couldn’t lay it on too thickly with the compliments. That would be suspicious. 

“Yeah. S’pose so.” Jesse said. He threw his head back and looked at the car ceiling, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, eyes open. He didn’t move for a few minutes.

They drove past Vegas, which Jesse didn’t even recognize as such until Walter pointed it out. Jesse muttered something about things always looking better on TV, and Walt fought the urge to laugh. Then, they were back to driving through barren environments only interrupted occasionally by a run-down looking house. There weren’t many other people on the road, except for truck drivers and people in RVs. But they were all going the opposite way. 

Around them, the desert made way for slightly greener grass and old mountains. When Walter looked at Jesse the kid was asleep, again with his head thrown back over the seat. That couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but he didn’t want to wake him, either. He decided he’d wake him up at the next stop and usher him into the back seat, if he wanted to keep sleeping. The first stop that looked somewhat promising was a bit of a long drive, and by the time Walt parked his car there it was starting to get hot in the car. It was an old car, so you hand to hand-crank the windows open, and that didn’t even really help.

Walter helped a still half-asleep Jesse out of the car, who stumbled a bit and leaned on him heavily. “Are we there yet?” 

“Where?” Walter asked back. Jesse stood leaned against him, mouth almost directly on his ear. His speech was slurring. “Canada?” 

Walter barked a laugh and Jesse took a step back, almost falling over. Walter helped him into the back seat of the car where he lavishly laid down with his feet resting on one of the front seat headrests. “We’re almost at the state border. I’ll look around here if anyone’s selling some water. After that, I’ll drive us to Denver, alright? Gus won’t want to be found out, so he won’t make his guys publicly execute us. The more people around us, the better.” 

“Denver, home of the Denver Broncos.” Jesse mumbled, then lifted his head to look at Walt. “We gonna stay there together?” 

Walter hadn’t even considered that there was a chance they wouldn’t. Earlier, when they had Holly, and everything was still somewhat normal, Jesse had gotten a way out, and he hadn’t taken it. So now, in Walter’s eyes, Jesse was stuck with him. Besides, if they were together, and one of them got attacked, the other would be able to save him. Leaving Jesse alone without anyone he knew didn’t sound like a good idea anyhow. He might miss his family and try to do something stupid like contact them.

“Of course. I mean, if you don’t mind.” Walter said, trying to sound as if he was giving Jesse a choice. Jesse waved him off. “Nah, that’s fine. Whatever. We’re partners, right?” 

“Yeah, we are.” 

Walter walked around a bit, kicking at some rocks on the sidewalk until he found a vending machine with bottled water. He bought two, one for him and one for Jesse, and walked around aimlessly for a bit. This was it, the imaginary barrier they were about to break. State border. No way back from here.

Back in the car Jesse had taken off his jacket and thrown it in the front seat. He was dozing off again. Walter started the car and began driving them towards the state border.

-

When Jesse woke up, dusk was already setting in. He was in the backseat of a car, and the door nearest to his head was open, with Mr. White towering above him. “We’re here.” he simply said, and left Jesse to sit up, dazed and confused all on his own. The car was parked in a small parking lot next to a cream-colored building that looked like it had seen better days. Jesse got out as Mr. White grabbed their bag from the trunk, and he silently followed the other man into the building.

So this was the hotel where they were staying. Huh. it was more of a motel, really, despite advertising as a hotel on the outside of the building. What was the difference, anyways? Motels had doors accessible from the outside? Whatever, it didn’t matter, because Jesse’s head was pounding and Mr. White was chatting up the lady behind the counter. He was able to write ‘what’s the difference between’ into his phone’s browser’s search bar before Mr. White jingled a keyring in front of his face, signalling that they were leaving again. Jesse turned around to say goodnight to the lady behind the counter, but she was staring at Mr. White’s back so intensely she didn’t even notice. Jesse pulled a face.

Their room was.. Basic. It was just what you’d expect from a motel room, everything just a bit dirty-looking, two single beds across from a small TV set, a separate bathroom and oddly enough, a fridge. Jesse opened the fridge, but there was nothing inside.

“You didn’t drink your water.” Mr. White said matter-of-factly, at the exact same time Jesse started asking where they actually were. “What do you mean?” 

“I bought a bottle of water for you at that truck stop. You didn’t drink it.” jeez, was the guy mad at him? What the hell did he do wrong this time? He was asleep during the whole road-trip. He hadn’t had the time to drink anything. Jesse put the money bag on the floor and kicked it under one of the beds. He laid on it and closed his eyes.

“Jesse, listen to me. You need to drink something now. You haven’t had anything to drink all day, except for that orange juice. A human being needs to drink about half a gallon of water every day.” Mr. White said, and to his annoyance, sat down on the bed he was trying to sleep on. 

“Fuck off, dude. Why do you even care. The fuck.” Jesse said, turning away from him. Behind him, Mr. White was silent for a moment, and Jesse thought he would go away until he felt a big hand on his shoulder. “Because I care about you, Jesse.” 

This was just too weird. First Mr. White went all crazy about water of all things and now he suddenly cared about him? The dude was practically always rude to him, always saying he wasn’t good enough. What had changed? And why had he still not moved his arm?

“Uh, right.” Jesse said, completely confused. Mr. White lingered for a moment longer, squeezed his shoulder and then finally stood up, leaving Jesse feeling cold. He’d forgotten his jacket in the car, but that wasn’t it, not at all. Dazed, he got up and walked to the bathroom to fill a cup of water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdf;kls j i have no idea what im doing can you tell
> 
> i swear it'll get more shippy after this. but you know, a slow burn is a slow burn...
> 
> please leave some kudos or a comment if you want me to continue this, it's honestly all that's keeping me going right now.


	5. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter plans a route. Jesse folds something out of napkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is basically just fluff, whoops. Hope u enjoy

“So, we’ll drive from Colorado to Wyoming, through South Dakota, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and then finally Michigan, which is where we’ll cross the border to Ontario, Canada.” 

They sat in a dimly lit restaurant, yet again. Mr. White was holding a big map he’d bought from a tourist store, showing Jesse a vague outline of the route they were going to drive. Jesse had a big soda and an even bigger hamburger, while Mr. White was keeping it simple with just some fries. Some fries Jesse was stealing from every time Mr. White wasn’t looking. They’d had a bit of a falling out earlier, in the motel room, leaving Jesse silent and a bit confused. Mr. White was patient, though, and even accepted the offer of eating junk food for dinner. Jesse decided not to make any comment about it, not wanting to make the guy mad. The way he’d just… exploded over something like water… it didn’t make any sense to Jesse. 

He ate his burger while he watched Mr. White’s finger glide over the route they were going to take. It was a long drive, a couple days at least. Jesse couldn’t wait to get out of the country. While they were on the run he had to force himself not to think about the consequences of what they had chosen to do. That morning, in the restaurant, with the orange juice, he’d let himself go, and it had affected him throughout the day. So now he had to, for lack of a better term, shut it. When they were in Canada, holed up in whatever small village comprised of mostly fishermen Mr. White could think of, he’d allow himself to think about what he was leaving behind. Then he could go on a five day bender and drink himself into a coma, or something. 

Denver was a beautiful city, from what he’d seen of it. Jesse wasn’t an architecture nut or anything, but he liked the buildings surrounding them. The neighborhood the hotel was in had lots of small buildings with long strips of lawn and road dividing them. They’d walked around a bit until they found a small shopping centre with a McDonalds and a Dollar Tree. Mr. White had been mostly silent throughout, only stopping to tell Jesse some basic facts about the history of Denver that he’d forgotten almost immediately after.

“We’ll keep to smaller roads,” Mr. White explained, “so if Gus thinks we’re going to cross the border and put up a roadblock we’ll be able to avoid him.” 

Jesse stole another fry. “Didn’t you say we should stay around a lot of people before?” 

 

“Well, yes. When it comes to cities. It’s hard to find someone in a city. But on a road, all you have to do is know someone’s licence plate. They’ve got cameras nowadays that automatically save those and run them through a database.” Mr. White explained, grabbing a fry for himself. He chewed on it thoughtfully, as if he were tasting a fine wine. Jesse laughed silently. 

“But.. wait. We got a new car.” Jesse said. He grabbed another fry at the exact moment Mr. White was grabbing one, and their hands touched. Mr. White didn’t seem deterred. “We still need to be careful. If Gus’ men found your old car, they probably thought of checking at the car dealership. That guy, the sweaty one, would absolutely have told them what car he sold us, especially if they threatened him.” 

“Oh, shit.” Jesse said. Mr. White nodded. “Shit indeed.” 

They were silent for a moment. Mr. White ate some more fries and shifted the bowl of them towards Jesse’s side of the table. Jesse smiled at him thankfully. 

“Have you heard anything from Mike?” Mr. White asked. 

Jesse shook his head. “Probably too scared to call me. I guess it would get him in trouble too, so like, I’m not mad or anything.” 

“Alright.” Mr. White said. “I do appreciate the risk he took to call you. Even though I must admit that when he first called you, I thought he was deliberately misleading us on Gus’ orders.” 

“Why?” Jesse asked. “Mike is a good guy. He was all about… saying I had potential, and shit like that.” 

“I say you have potential too.” Mr. White said, and he almost sounded offended. Jesse shot him a pointed look. He wanted to say ‘yeah, you do now, all of a sudden, since like, this morning’ but he didn’t want to create any unnecessary conflict. Mr. White held his hands up in defense. “You do have potential, Jesse. I’ve never said you don’t. You just don’t apply yourself enough.” 

Jesse rolled his eyes and drank some of his cola, deliberately slurping as loudly as he could to piss Mr. White off. Instead, Mr. White just stared at him, as if he were trying to figure Jesse out. Trying to read his mind, or something. Like that one girl from Star Trek, the one who could sense emotions, and stuff. Jesse used to get really high and watch Star Trek, back when his house was still his, before his parents remodeled it. He’d lay down in bed with his little TV on and just.. lay there. He usually had no idea what the plot of the episode was, but remembered enjoying it, anyways. 

He snapped back into reality because Mr. White had put his hand over Jesse’s, the one laying on the table next to the fries, because he’d wanted to eat some fries but had gotten distracted, and Mr. White squeezed his hand in an oddly kind gesture nobody had really given him before. “You do have potential. You used to draw during class, and you’d sometimes forget your paper on your table. I was always impressed. But I couldn’t really say anything.” 

Jesse licked his lips and stared at Mr. White with his eyes wide. “You.. you liked my drawings?” 

He’d stopped drawing after Jane. She was the first person in years he’d trusted to show them to, and she’d said she liked them- well, she’d teased him about them quite a bit, but that was just the way she was- and after that every scribble just felt like he was betraying her. Like he was taking something from her. But.. if Mr. White really liked his drawings, Jesse supposed it wouldn’t be too bad to draw something for him. If he’d squeeze his shoulder again. And tell him he was proud of him.

Mr. White let go of his hand and nodded. “Yes, they were very good. I always thought you would end up becoming an artist.” 

“Really?” Jesse was actually full-on blushing at this point. An artist, huh. Well, in a way he sort of did something artistic now. Chefs were called artists too, right, and he and Mr. White cooked meth… plus, weren’t all those artists from the 70’s really into drugs? There was definitely something here, but before Jesse could try to explain it to Mr. White, the guy’s phone started ringing, breaking the moment. And when he looked at his phone’s display screen his smile disappeared, and he stood up, leaving Jesse with his burger and fries and one hand still laying down on the table.

-

“Skyler?” 

 

“Hello, Walt. I was just checking in. Saul has uh… brought Holly back.” Skyler said on the other end of the phone. She sounded happier, calmer, and it made Walt happy. Even though their love live had seen better days, he was still very fond of her. She was the mother of his children, after all, and she was kind, and funny, and smart. They worked good together. Bitterly, Walt realized her place in his life had been taken over by Jesse more and more. 

“Yeah, I… I decided that would be the best for all of us.” Walter said. He’d walked outside to take the call, not wanting to alarm Jesse. Now, he could see Jesse sitting down at their table through the window. He was looking at the map he’d drawn their route on. Oh, christ. He had to tell Skyler about that.

“I have to ask, Walt, I’m sorry, but… when are you coming home? I’ve been able to tell Junior you were busy with work until now, but he won’t keep believing it. What do I tell him? Are you doing something drug-related right now?” Skyler whispered the last few words, and Walter wondered just where she was. 

“No, no. Of course not.” Walter said dismissively, immediately realizing that was the wrong choice of words. “What? Then why did you stay away? Why didn’t you bring Holly home in person? Saul said you were two cities over!” 

Walter sighed. “I know. There’s been some.. Complications. I won’t be able to come back home anytime soon.”

He heard crackling at the other end of the line. Then, Skyler sighed as well, and he could imagine her, standing in the kitchen with her phone, head bowed down in disappointment. “You have to make a choice. Between this life and ours. You can’t keep doing things like this and expect me to fix it for you. You can’t expect me to lie to Junior, and to Hank and Marie- heck, even to Holly, when she’s older. You can’t be so reckless and expect me to pick up the pieces. I’m tired, Walt.”

“I know.” Walter said. “And I would choose for our family every time. But I don’t make those decisions. I can’t control these circumstances. I miss you and Junior a lot, but… I care about you too much to put you in danger.” 

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Skyler asked. Walter rubbed at his eyes. “It’s not that simple. Look, I can’t say it over the phone. But you have enough money from… the car wash. You can take care of yourself, Junior and Holly. But I have to go now.” 

“Money isn’t going to fix-” Skyler started, but Walter hung up the phone. He hoped she got what he meant when he said she had money from the car wash. He also hoped she wouldn’t paint him in too much of a bad light in front of the kids. Ironic, how wanting to provide for his family had cost him his relationship with them. 

He walked back inside and slid into his seat opposite Jesse, who was busy trying to fold his napkin into a swan. He looked up and smiled. “Who was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go back to the hotel.” Walter said, and already started walking outside, not waiting for Jesse who was probably struggling to take the map, his burger and his soda all with him with only two hands. Walt enjoyed listening to the uneven running behind him, the pathetic ‘wait for me!’ Jesse let out while he reached him.

Jesse looked down most of the way to the hotel, mind elsewhere. This was good, because Walt wasn’t in a talkative mood, anyhow. 

Back in the motel Walter put the TV on and sat down on his bed, flipping through romantic comedies and several different news channels. Nothing about Gus, or the cartel. Nothing had happened in Albuquerque. Jesse sat at the little table next to the fridge and took some napkins from his pockets that he’d taken from the restaurant. 

“Do you have a pen?” he asked, and Walter grunted a reply that could mean just about anything. Jesse groaned. “Whatever, bitch.” 

At around 11 PM the TV wasn't interesting enough anymore and Walter felt himself slipping into a light sleep. Jesse had found a pen somewhere and was busy scribbling away on the napkins, angrily throwing one in the trash can every few minutes.

“I’m going to shower.” he mumbled, leaving Walter alone in the room. Walt listened to the water turning on and was glad it wasn't as cold as last night in the tent. He undressed himself down to his dress shirt and underpants and laid down under the covers. When Jesse entered the room a while later with wet hair and a tank top on, he was almost asleep. 

The room was almost fully dark, safe for a lamp next to Walt’s bed. Jesse tiptoed over, not knowing Walter was still awake, and switched off the lamp, after which he crawled into his own bed. Walter watched the kid toss and turn for a bit in the moonlight filtering through the window. 

“You can't sleep?” 

“Fuck, dude. I thought you were asleep. Scared the shit out of me.” Jesse said. Walt laughed and turned around, facing Jesse. “You're right, can't sleep. Not sure why.” 

“Well, you slept all day.” Walter said, and could already imagine Jesse’s annoyed look. “...but, if you were that tired, it probably means you needed that sleep. So it's alright.” 

Jesse shifted on his mattress. “Oh, okay. Still sucks I can’t sleep now, though.”

Walter closed his eyes, but Jesse was moving around again and it was keeping him awake. “Jesse.” 

“What?” Jesse asked.

“Come here.”

Jesse sat up but didn't move over to the other bed yet. This was going so well, Walter almost couldn't believe it. Jesse yawned. “Why? Do we have to share body heat again?” 

His voice was almost teasing. Walt felt tense. He wanted Jesse to sleep in his bed with him. The closer Jesse was to him, the more he owned him. Walt couldn't have his family, so he’d let himself have this. 

Jesse was looking for an excuse to do what he’d asked, and Walter had to provide that excuse. “I don't want you to get sick.” 

“Get sick?” Jesse asked, a bit perplexed. Walter held his hand up, as a sort of ‘Let me explain’-sign. “You’ve slept all day. Last night, you were far too cold to be healthy. There's a good chance it could all be connected. If you want to get better, you need to cozy up.” 

“I’m.. sick.” Jesse said, tasting the words in his mouth. He didn't believe it, and neither did Walter. It was just an excuse. If Walter kept thinking of them, Jesse could be his forever. Jesse stood up on jittery legs and crawled under the covers in Walter's bed. He was facing Walt, but he was laying much lower on the bed, head at the height of the older man’s stomach. Walter reached his hand out and gently patted Jesse’s head. He wanted to rake his fingers through Jesse’s hair but couldn't since he shaved it all off. 

Jesse made a small noise not unlike a cat’s purr and Walter couldn't take it anymore. He scooted down to Jesse’s level and wrapped his arms around him, relieved when Jesse did the same back. The warmth was intoxicating and Jesse smelled like hotel soap. One of his hands was still petting Jesse’s head and the kid nuzzled into the crook of Walter's neck to get even more of it somehow. Walter smiled. “Yes, you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> anyways, tell me what you thought. Next chapter will move the plot forward a bit again. Leave a comment or some kudos if you'd like me to continue! I love feedback.


	6. Drawing

Early in the morning they checked out of the hotel and drove towards their next destination: Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It was a nine hour drive from Denver, so they left while the sun had only just started rising. Jesse had woken up with Mr. White curled around him like a cat, snoring softly, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Yesterday had been a weird day, feeling almost feverish in his memory. He’d slept a lot, they’d gotten burgers, and then Mr. White had called him sick and made him lay in his bed. 

When Mr. White woke up he acted like nothing had happened. He was unusually chipper and happily pulled Jesse along to the car so they could continue on their trip. Jesse smoked a cigarette for breakfast and watched as city skylines made way for seemingly endlessly outstretched roads and far away mountains. Mr. White was driving, and if he was thinking about anything he wasn’t doing it out loud. Jesse’s brain was working overtime trying to figure out how exactly he was feeling. 

It was good when Mr. White was in a good mood like he was now. As long as he was calm, and not too cold or stressed, he was genuine fun to hang out with. Even if he was a bit stuffy, he wasn’t bad company. And you probably couldn’t work as a teacher without being a little bit lame, anyways. 

Maybe Jesse liked Mr. White’s good moods a bit too much. Maybe he shouldn’t like it so much when Mr. White touched his hair, or when he complimented him. Maybe, he thought bitterly, he was acting as a replacement for Mr. White’s family. And that thought hurt. But he wasn't sure how to ask. 

When they reached a gas station they filled the car up and afterwards bought some breakfast sandwiches to eat in the patch of grass next to the station. After that, it was Jesse’s turn to drive, and so he did, glad he at least had something to do now. He’d left all of his napkins in the hotel trash can. Mr. White cleared his throat, getting ready to say something. 

“Stupid, that all of this was caused by one tiny mistake.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Jesse said, a bit uncomfortably. He just hoped Mr. White wouldn't find a way to blame this on him, as he often did. 

“I know I shouldn't have taken Holly, but I still do think I deserve to see her.” Mr. White said. “What do you think?”

This almost felt like a test. Jesse bit his lip nervously. “Well, like, she's your daughter.” 

“That she is.” Mr. White said matter-of-factly. He was waiting for even more validation of his earlier plan, though. 

“And, uh… you deserve to see her? ‘Cause you’re her dad?” It was more of a counter question than an answer. But Mr. White nodded slowly, indicating he was satisfied. “Alright.”

“Alright.” Jesse echoed. He focused his eyes on the road again. Mr. White sure was an enigma, huh. On one hand he didn't need anyone- except maybe a helping hand in the meth lab, once in a while. But on the other hand he did just ask for validation. Maybe he was a bit human after all. 

After a few hours they switched drivers again and Jesse opened his window, using it as some natural air conditioning. Jesse noticed Mr. White was sneaking glances at him once in a while, and he looked at himself, searching for anything that might’ve caught the man’s attention. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, that could be it. But the guy hadn’t complained about it the days before, and he hadn’t been wearing one then, either. They hadn’t encountered any cops, anyways, so it wasn’t like it mattered. 

“What is it?” he finally decided to ask, since they still had a few hours to drive, and he didn’t have anything better to do except stare out the window. Mr. White looked over, looking curious. “Your hair is getting longer again.” 

He was right. The last time he’d shaved it all off was a couple weeks ago now. It was nowhere near as long as it used to be, but he had noticed the difference himself, too. Jesse blushed a bit. Mr. White had noticed his hair. “Uh, yeah. That’s typically how hair works.” 

Mr. White snorted, and Jesse laughed a bit too. “I’ve uh, actually been thinking about whether I should shave it again or not.” 

“Oh?” Mr. White asked. “Not satisfied with your current style?” 

He sounded oddly happy to hear that, Jesse thought. “Back in rehab, they always talked about impulse decisions, and how they’re, like, they lead to bad things. Like, if you buy coke, when you're trying to get clean, you’ve basically already lost. Like, you're gonna use it eventually. And uh, my hair.. that was one of those impulsive decisions too. Except different, ‘cause I can't smoke it or anything.” 

Mr. White smiled. “Good job, Jesse. Are you still following those rules?” The ‘I know you're using again, but besides that’ was very much implied. 

“Well, yeah. That's why I'm thinking of growing my hair out.” Jesse said. He hoped that was the right answer, and it seemed to be, because in that moment Mr White took his right hand off the steering wheel and wrapped that arm around Jesse. Jesse didn't have a seatbelt on, so he was easily manhandled into sitting against Mr. White’s side. It wasn't the most comfortable position, as his legs were still in the other seat, so he shuffled up until his legs were in the shotgun seat and he was almost on top of Mr. White. 

He was so warm. You know that feeling when someone you like touches you? That almost electric heat flowing throughout your body, setting your heart on fire? That was what he felt. And the weirdest thing was, Mr. White didn't even attempt to push him away. Rather, on a calm piece of highway, he took his eyes off the road to kiss Jesse’s forehead. Just the slightest press of lips, but it made Jesse’s legs go weak. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming that this was wrong, that Mr. White was using him, but Jesse opted to ignore it, if only to be able to experience this moment.

They drove for a while, Jesse almost falling asleep with his head resting in the crook of Mr. White’s neck. They drove into Sioux Falls when the sun was starting to go down. They were going to leave their car behind here, and buy a new one, just in case. Jesse had looked up landmarks of Sioux Falls on his phone, but couldn't read much further than the fact that there was a zoo, because he hadn't brought his phone charger. Wouldn't want to miss any important calls, like an update from Mike about Gus. He almost wanted to ask Mr. White if they could go to the zoo, but he could already imagine the guy laughing his ass off at the mere idea. 

Sioux Falls had an odd combination of old and new architecture, and the hotel they ended up in was a modern looking building with windows from floor to ceiling looking over a small park. There was a playground where some kids were sitting on swings. They deliberately parked away from the hotel so the staff wouldn't have to move the car after they left it behind. This hotel was a big upgrade from the one in Denver. Instead of an out-of-place looking fridge in the middle of the room there was a rather slick mini fridge with several miniature liquor bottles. There was even an empty notebook and a pen on a desk next to the TV. 

Jesse kicked their bag of money under his bed, grimacing at how much lighter it had become because they bought the car. A car they couldn't even keep. Mr. White was standing by the table, looking at the room service menu. “We ordering in?” 

Mr. White turned around. “They’ve got macaroni and cheese, steak and roasted chicken.” 

“That's all?” 

“Well, no.” Mr. White confessed, and flashed Jesse the menu too quick to read anything off of it. “There are some other meals, but I only told you the ones I thought you’d like.” 

“What’re you having?” Jesse asked.

“The oysters in half shell with lemon.” Mr. White said. Jesse stared at him. “Dude, that sounds disgusting.” 

Mr. White laughed. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. It’s more of a culinary experience. It’s not about the taste, but about the combination with the wine, and the way you eat it.” 

“We’re having wine?” 

Mr. White confirmed that yes, they were indeed having wine, and after a call to room service they were both sitting on the bed most near to the TV, steaming hot plates on their laps. Jesse had decided to get the roasted chicken, and looked at the oysters Mr. White got with morbid curiosity. He seemed to enjoy the things, but they just looked very slimy and disgusting. Mr. White was amused by Jesse’s disgusted look. “Try one.” 

“Uh, hell no.” Jesse said, backing away. In the background, the TV played football reruns. Mr. White held up an oyster in front of Jesse, who jokingly backed up even more, terrified expression on his face. Mr. White took the oyster out of its shell with a fork and squeezed a piece of lemon out over it. He held it out to Jesse, serious this time. “Eat.” 

The oyster wiggled a bit on the fork and Jesse swallowed uncomfortably. He then took the fork and took a bite. It just tasted like taking a sip of ocean water, except more slimy. The taste was fine, but the texture almost made him throw up. He managed to keep it down, though, and Mr. White patted him on the back. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Nah.” Jesse said, though it was actually worse than he’d expected. Mr. White didn't need to know that. He was in such a good mood, after all. 

The roasted chicken was good, a bit burned, but since this was a pretty expensive hotel, there was a big chance that was on purpose. After eating, Mr. White checked his map some more to see if there was any quicker way to cross Canada’s border. There was, but he decided that going to Toronto was the smartest decision, because it was much easier to hide yourself in the big city. He told Jesse this, who shrugged, because geography had never been his forté. 

Jesse, at the same time, was drawing on the little notepad he’d found on the table. If Mr. White liked his drawings so much, he'd probably like to have a portrait of himself in Jesse’s style. Though, with him being bald and all that, his face ended up looking a bit like a skull. A skull with a goatee. Jesse kept sneaking glances at the guy, trying to get it to look perfect. Today had, oddly enough, been a fun day. This was the closest they’d ever been to doing something fun for the heck of it. Even though behind them Gus was looming, they’d had dinner, and had long conversations they didn't need to have. Jesse tried not to think about what the future would bring, but if it was anything like today, it might just be not-horrible.

-

Walter noticed Jesse was drawing again, and marveled at it. Not because he was particularly happy about it, but he did it because Walter said so. Walter had told him he liked his drawings, and since then he’d been drawing each evening. The power Walter possessed over the kid was unbelievable. He kept looking over at Walter, too, so evidently he was drawing his portrait. 

Maybe Walter had gone a bit too far, making Jesse sleep in the same bed as him. Holding him tight and kissing his forehead. But the kid, being as attention starved as he was, welcomed it all with open arms. If Gus were to catch up with them, this time he’d have Jesse to defend him. Going out in a blaze of glory never sounded this good, the kid laying over him, legs wrapped around each other’s. Bullets hitting Jesse, going straight through him, and finally killing Walter, too.

Jesse shouted a triumphant ‘hell yeah!’ to himself, rousing Walter from his thoughts. He turned down the TV volume just a bit. “What?” 

“I uh,” Jesse stammered. “Y-you know when you said you liked my drawings?” 

“Well, yes, Jesse. I do remember that.” Walter said, trying not to sound smug. 

“I figured, y’know, ‘cause you liked-” Jesse stopped himself, frowning. “What the fuck am I doing. Nevermind, Mr. White.” 

Walter pulled a face. “Now don’t be like that, Jesse. Tell me what you were going to say.” then, to top it all off, “Do you really want to ruin such a good day with something as unimportant as this?” 

Jesse’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Well, then. Show me. You drew me something, I assume?” Walter asked. Jesse rolled his eyes and handed him the piece of paper, after which he took a few steps back and turned around, sighing. Walter unfolded the paper and looked at the drawing. It wasn’t amazing, or anything. But he could see Jesse probably did his best on it, seeing as he hadn’t drawn since Jane.. happened. There he was, Walter, holding some kind of Erlenmeyer flask, mouth agape as the contents of the flask were apparently about to explode. Jesse still stood with his back towards him, running his hand through his hair.

“Very good, Jesse.” Walter said. “I can see you really did your best. Even.. applied yourself, you could say.” 

Jesse turned around, still not meeting his gaze. “Are you making fun of me? Fuck it, this was all a stupid idea anyways. I’m going for a smoke.” 

Jesse started walking towards the door of their hotel room, but Walter quickly walked up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. He immediately stopped walking, and seemed to be shaking a bit. Walter didn’t understand how Jesse could feel so ashamed all of a sudden. After all, he’d done stellar, exactly what he’d been ordered to do. “You did good. I promise.” 

It was the ‘I promise’ that made Jesse turn around, eyes to the ground, biting his lip so aggressively it wouldn’t surprise Walter if he’d hurt himself. “For real?” 

His voice was so soft, so uncertain, Walter felt a wave of fondness go through him that he didn’t even know he had. He wrapped his arms around Jesse, who didn’t do it back, but didn’t pull away either. Walter used one of his hands to stroke Jesse’s hair and they just stood there for a while, Walter occasionally repeating ‘you did good’ until Jesse’s shoulders stopped trembling.

Jesse’s eyes met his, and neither of them said anything. Jesse’s face was flushed, and he looked just like the scared teenager he’d seen falling out of that window a couple years back. Jesse was looking at him as if he was afraid, and Walter was the only person who could save him. And that was exactly what Walter was planning on doing. So he did what any person would do, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay holy shit this chapter took ages to write
> 
> Anyways, next chapter is when shit is going to go down, so prepare for that. Thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos, I really appreciate it.


	7. Overdose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse experiences some emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just realized I'm naming these chapters like Hotline Miami levels LOL
> 
> anyways HI sorry for the, like, four month hiatus. here's a little short chapter to get it all rolling again, hope you enjoy!

Jesse had finally finished the drawing he had been working on all day, and was showing it to Mr. White. Mr. White had made him- and Jesse had been embarrassed, mortified, actually, but he had insisted, so Jesse gave him the drawing. 

Mr. White was silent for a long time, staring at the piece of paper that had been given to him. Jesse had panicked, and started walking out of the hotel room to go somewhere outside, wherever Mr. White wouldn’t be to judge him. Because he was pretty sure that if the guy told him he was disappointed it’d kill him. In the back of his head he felt horrible- that he’d allowed Mr. White to make him this way. Make him so desperate for approval. He’d heard of people in abusive relationships before, who would be changed by the other person so much that you eventually wouldn’t recognize them anymore. But never had he thought of the possibility that it could happen to him. 

Abusive, huh. Abusive relationship implied that there was a relationship going on, which wasn’t the case. But, if he thought about it, Mr. White had been awfully touchy-feely recently. And the bed-sharing, and the.. the.. pulling him into a hug while they were driving. All of the shoulder touches. The praise. The- oh god.

He was being conditioned. And he’d allowed it to happen. 

With renewed force, he walked towards the door, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You did good.” he heard Mr. White say, through all of the fog in his mind. “I promise.” 

The ‘I promise’ was what did it. Jesse turned around without even wanting to, feeling endlessly small opposite from Mr. White, standing tall and sure of himself. Jesse bit his lip, looking at the ground, everywhere but Mr. White’s eyes. “For real?” 

Mr. White pulled him into a warm hug, and Jesse felt himself starting to sob. It was so unfair. He used to be so self-assured. He used to do things all by himself because he didn’t need anything. But here he was, crying. And the worst thing was that he felt so safe in the other man’s arms. Like nobody could hurt him as long as he didn’t let go. And he didn’t. Instead, Mr. White pulled him in even tighter, kissing his hair and mumbling things Jesse couldn’t hear. It felt reassuring anyways. 

Eventually Jesse looked up at him, face flushed from crying. He felt like he needed to be saved. From himself, from this world, from the situation he found himself in. he felt hopeless. But right now he was safe in Mr. White’s arms. If anyone could protect him from the world, from drug usage and mobsters and Gus Fring, it was Mr. White. Heisenberg.

And he loved him.

He wasn’t even surprised when Mr. White kissed him. He made a sound not unlike a sob and clutched at Mr. White’s back even tighter, not sure whether to kiss back or not. Not even remembering how to at that point. Mr. White seemed to sense this and cupped his chin with his hand, changing their angle so he could kiss him even harder. There was no love in it, simply the mathematically best way to do these actions, probably. Calm and calculated. Jesse sobbed again, his whole body shaking with it. Mr. White noticed and pulled back, instead mouthing along his cheekbone, pressing kisses down his neck until he reached his shirt. “You’re such a good boy. You’ve done so well for me the past few days. I’m so proud of you.” 

“No I’m not.” Jesse managed. He swallowed heavily and Mr. White used the hand under his chin to lift his gaze to meet his own. “How so, Jesse? Be honest with me.” 

“‘ve been using again.” Jesse mumbled, then added “not since you called me that day, though.” 

Mr. White’s shoulder sagged in.. relief? And he actually chuckled. “Don’t worry about that, son. I already knew that. I’m not mad. You’re gonna stay clean now. I’ll make sure of it. As long as you listen to me, and do everything I say- as long as you’re good to me, I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.” 

Jesse’s legs trembled. God, this was fucked up. Why did he need this so badly? He sniffled again and his knees finally buckled, the only thing keeping him from falling down being Mr. White’s arm around him. “Are you going to be good to me?” 

It was a demanding question, and Jesse struggled to find the right way to answer. “D’pends.." 

“On what?” Mr. White asked. 

“On if you’re gonna kiss me again, Mr. White.” Jesse said, trying his hardest to sound cheeky, which wasn’t easy with his nose stuffy and his voice trembling as he’d just been crying. He got it now. This was what Mr. White wanted. Complete control over him. He’d wanted it with his wife, too, wanted that emotional security. Someone to come home to. Now, because of Gus, he’d never be able to go home again. So he needed to get that security from elsewhere. From Jesse. He had some kind of fantasy of being the sole provider for a family. He wanted to take care of someone, of a wife, and kids, and he wanted someone to fuck, easy as that. Though blunt, Jesse realized that was most likely the only reason Mr. White kissed him.

Not because he actually liked him personally. He just liked the power he had over him. 

Mr. White did that chuckle, that dark, Heisenberg-mode one, and instead of going for his lips, as he’d expected, he crouched down just a little to kiss Jesse’s neck, hard. He could feel the blood vessels popping. He was being marked. He tilted his head back, giving Mr. White better access. And Mr. White took it, biting him even harder. It hurt- it hurt like shit, actually, and Jesse yelped, attempting to get away by taking a step away from the door Mr. White was busy pushing him towards. 

“What did I just tell you!” Mr. White exclaimed, and Jesse whimpered, wriggling loose from the man’s grip until he fell onto the floor. He was crying, and he must’ve looked absolutely pathetic on the floor like that, face buried in his hands, hair at that exact length between recently shaved and regular short hair. He probably looked like an overgrown child, crying because his popsicle fell, and he hated himself so much that all he could do was cry. He’d helped kill multiple of his friends- he killed Jane, he ruined people’s lives with the meth he had cooked. He was a monster. Couldn’t do anything right. And now he couldn’t even stand still and take it. Take Mr. White’s loving on him, taking what he wanted from him. His sobs rocked his whole body, and he rocked forward and back in a sad attempt to calm himself.

Then he felt it, knees next to him on the soft hotel carpet, and then a hand on his back, not even moving, just there to ground him in reality. “What’s the matter?”

It was asked sternly, but with an underlying tone of worry. The facade was slipping just slightly. “Come on, Jesse. Just tell me.”

“I- I can’t do anything right.” Jesse sniffled. Mr. White sighed, endeared. “I’m… sorry, son. If I made you feel that way. You’ve done lots of things right just in the past few days. You watched Holly for me, you.. stood by my side, when nobody else did. C’mon. You know I hate seeing you like this.” 

‘I don’t know that at all!’ that voice in his head thought again, but he pushed it back. “But.. I couldn’t even take it.” 

“Take wh- oh, no. Jesse. You’ve got it all wrong. Please, look at me.” Mr. White said, and Jesse tentatively looked up at him. Their eyes met, and Mr. White gave him a reassuring smile. “There we go. Alright. Good. Listen. If we’re doing this, whatever this-” he gestured around him, “is, then I need you to be comfortable with everything we do, alright? I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t want to do.” 

“I wanna make you happy, Mr. White.” Jesse mumbled, then corrected himself. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

He was still rocking back and forth. Back and forth and back and forth while the hand on his back moved slowly, deliberately down his spine, grabbed him by the hips and pulled him forward so he was sitting up on Mr. White’s lap, lower legs still touching the scratchy carpet, hands still clutching at his own hoodie. Everything hurt, suddenly, the textures of the clothes he was wearing, of the carpet, of Mr. White’s hot hands feeling under his shirt, on his chest and his back, as if he were mapping him out without looking. Jesse was a murderer. He deserved this, deserved this hurt, deserved the tears, deserved the-

“You’re so beautiful, Jesse.” Mr. White whispered in his ear, breath again feeling like a thousand little needles in his skin. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooooo please tell me what you thought etc etc comments are my lifeblood!
> 
> sorry this chapter was so short but I didn't know how to change POVs here so I'll just do that in the next chapter =w=


	8. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah there's sex in this one.

Walter White was in heaven.

Well, he wasn’t, because he wasn’t dead, not yet, but if he were to die right here and right now, he wouldn’t even mind. He had Jesse on his lap, writhing and moaning between sniffles as he rutted up against him. This was what he’d been working on these past few days, or even months, to be honest. Making Jesse his. Showering him with praise whenever he did something good, and being cold and unforgiving at the slightest mistake. It was too easy to manipulate someone into being exactly the way you wanted them to be. But Jesse was already perfect the way he was. If he just listened..

No, it was fine. Right now it was fine. When he’d first kissed Jesse the boy had started crying, not sure what to do with himself. He confessed that all he wanted to do was help him and make him feel good, and that he’d used meth again and lied about quitting. Walter already knew all of this, of course. But he pretended to both be surprised and saintly, saying he wasn't mad at all- saying that admitting his mistakes made Jesse even better, honesty being a good indicator of one’s temperament and further personality. Somehow he managed to make the kid stop crying, and now here they were, making out like Walter's more popular classmates used to do in drive-in theatres. 

They had moved onto the bed, so Jesse's knees wouldn't dig into the dirty hotel carpet so uncomfortably. Yes, the hotel staff claimed to vacuum it daily, but that often proved untrue. Jesse was sitting on his lap, facing him, rutting up against his stomach, arms around him. Walter had his arms around Jesse, too, hands resting on his lower back, spurring him on. Walter was no stranger to the stereotypical roles people played in sex, one dominant and one submissive, and found Jesse was subconsciously filling the latter role, which pleased him greatly. Jesse’s face was wet from crying and Walter used his finger to wipe the tears off, caressing Jesse's face gently. 

“My sweet boy.. what are you crying about for heaven’s sake?” he mumbled, teetering on the line between genuinity and mockery. Jesse sniffled. His nose was stuffy and Walter could hear it as he spoke, “F-Feels good, Mr. White.” 

“Well that’s nothing to cry about, is it?” Walter said, smacking the younger man on the bottom jokingly. Jesse clenched his eyes shut. He was holding on to the back of Walter’s shirt rather uncomfortably, and Walter noticed him letting go gently. “Uh.. Mr. White?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I… uh.. take my pants off now?” Jesse asked. He gestured to the front of his pants awkwardly. Walter rolled his eyes. He supposed it couldn’t hurt. He made quick work of it, too, unzipping Jesse’s pants and undoing the button at the top. He quickly started jerking Jesse off, starting to lose interest in the encounter. His libido had decreased a lot since he started chemotherapy, and there wasn’t really much in this for himself. But he supposed he could appreciate the little whimpers and squeaks emanating from the boy as he was worked closer and closer towards his climax.

“Mr. White… Mr. White!” Jesse moaned as Walter jerked him off faster, paying special attention to the glans by rubbing it with his thumb. Jesse’s nails were digging into his back, probably leaving some marks even through his shirt. His moans were now nothing more than little high pitched noises and heavy breaths. It was the complete opposite of Walter, who had remained almost unfazed. 

“Can I..can you kiss me while I..” Jesse managed, gesturing to his dick and back at himself. Walter attempted a sweet smile, nodding. “Of course, Jesse. Whatever you want.” 

Jesse reached up to his face and brought their lips together, oddly gently. Suddenly, Walter was aware of the silence around them, only broken by the sound of fabric from where Walter’s sleeve touched Jesse’s jeans, and the wet noises of their kissing. Jesse kissed with tongue, almost thrusting it into Walter’s mouth. He grew more and more frantic as Walter stroked him, losing his rhythm. And then, he came all over Walter’s dress shirt.

Sighing, Walter stood up, leaving Jesse cold and exposed on the bed. After he’d cleaned his shirt off he returned to find the kid asleep, curled in on himself like a cat. 

-

The next day of driving brought them to Waterloo, Iowa. This time, Jesse had stolen a car from the hotel parking lot while Walter stood a few feet away, checking if anyone like a guard or car owner was coming. But it was still early, so not many people were up, and the guard stood out front by the hotel’s entrance, not even glancing their way at all. Jesse sat in the back seat, the hood of his sweater up, trying to hide the red marks all around his neck. Hickeys. He hadn’t talked much at all this morning, and every question Walter asked him was met with a grunt that could be interpreted as either positive or negative. He seemed lost in thought, so Walter decided he would be the one to drive today, again. In Waterloo, they would get another car again, and drive through to the next state, Illinois. Walter didn’t know if they would manage all that in one day, but they could try. Best to cross the border as soon as possible, and disappear somewhere where Gus and his goons couldn’t find them.

Speaking of Gus, neither of them had actually heard anything about the guy anymore. As far as they could tell, they weren’t being tailed anymore, and Mike hadn’t called Jesse either. Still, they shouldn’t risk it. They had to cross the border in order to get away from it all. In Canada they would be able to settle down, get a cottage somewhere, and live out the remainder of Walter’s days. And after Walter passed away, be it from his cancer or something else, Jesse could do pretty much whatever he wanted. But it’d be nice to know that someone would be visiting his grave sometimes. 

As they drove past fields and fields of corn, Jesse rolled down the window by his seat and smoked cigarette after cigarette, eyes closed against the sun. There were farms around, too, places where you could pay to pick your own strawberries and where they sold fresh ice cream from milk from their own farm’s cows. Jesse still hadn’t spoken much after what happened yesterday, but Walter could see him from the rear-view mirror and he didn’t seem distraught. Looks could be deceiving, of course, but if anything, the younger man seemed tired and maybe a bit confused. For Walter this was just the endgame. He had Jesse wrapped around his finger. The kid would do anything for him, even kill, if need be. 

Walter thought about the way he had looked yesterday, covered in tears, dick straining against his jeans and moaning like it was his first time learning what sex was. Completely entranced by ‘Mr. White’, wanting nothing more than to please him. He wondered if Jesse regretted it. Maybe he should've let Jesse jerk him off, but he really hadn't felt like it, and besides, the guy had been crying his eyes out for God’s sake. He deserved a break. 

Maybe he should buy Jesse breakfast at one of these farm shops, as a bit of a peace offering. A kind of ‘I know we just had weird, messy sex in our hotel room, and you might be traumatized now, or something, but here, let me buy you an ice cream cone.’-esque thing. Walter grimaced. The situations he found himself in..

He parked the car on a muddy parking lot and instructed Jesse to get out, who did so without question. There were a few tables and chairs outside in the shade of the farm’s main building, and people, probably locals, were sitting there and chatting, drinking iced tea from mason jars. There were also a few kids running around, playing a game together. Jesse and Walter walked in and waited for their eyes to adjust to the cool shade inside the farm building. There was a counter, behind which a woman stood stirring something in a big pot. When she saw them enter, she smiled and waved with one gloved hand. “Hello you two! Here for lunch or late breakfast?” 

They hadn't had breakfast at the hotel, so Walter walked over to her, easily slipping into a vacationgoer persona. “Late breakfast. Jesse here-” he pointed at Jesse, “-wanted to have breakfast at the hotel, but I insisted we would go out here and try some Iowa specialities.” 

The woman smiled sweetly. “How darling. Well, you’ve come to the right place here. We got pork tenderloins, although that might be a bit much for breakfast. I could fix you two up with a cup of coffee and a piece of rhubarb pie, though!” 

Jesse didn't indicate that he wanted anything specific, so Walter just ordered for him. “That sounds great. Do we wait here, or should we go sit outside?” 

“You can go sit outside, and I’ll bring it out to you in a bit, alright?” The woman said. 

“Thank you very much.” Walter said, and he pulled Jesse outside by his arm. Outside, they sat down by a small table and looked around at the other people. It was genuinely nice here, and very quiet, which was a nice change from the busy streets of Sioux Falls and Denver. And Albuquerque, of course, although where Walter had lived with Skyler, Junior and Holly had been a more peaceful neighborhood. 

Jesse slumped down in his seat with a deep, annoyed scowl on his face. He didn’t say anything, and instead kicked at loose stones on the ground with his shoes. Walter briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of birds mixed with the wind and the people around them softly talking. The air was different here, too, fresher. Ideally, when they arrived in Canada, they would settle down in a nice small town where they could go hiking every day. Just like the first time, Walter didn’t want to do any more chemotherapy, but he was sure Jesse would be easier to convince of that than Skyler had been. So, he wouldn’t have much time left to live. But the fresh air would be beneficial to his lungs, as would living stress-free.

Walter opened one eye to look at Jesse again, but his posture hadn’t changed at all. He had worn his collar up high to hide the marks on his neck, but by now it had gone back down, and Walter could clearly see the red, painful looking marks decorating his Jesse. It was almost as if someone had put him in a chokehold. It looked.. good on him.

He wasn’t able to admire him any further, though, as the woman from earlier came outside holding two cups of coffee and two pieces of rhubarb pie. She smiled at Walter as she set the food down in front of them, then, instead of leaving, lingered by their table. “You two are on vacation, then?” 

“Um, yes.” Walter said, and smiled back politely. “We’re on a roadtrip through the whole country. Wanted to show him around before he’s too old to hang out with his pops.” 

Jesse sunk back even deeper into his seat while the woman looked at him gleefully. “Aww, he’s your son? How sweet, a family road trip.” 

“Yeah, kid loves to pretend he hates it, but I think he’s secretly having fun. Aren’t you, son?” Walter looked at Jesse in anticipation, but Jesse didn’t reply. The woman bowed down next to Walter to say something softly in his ear. She smelled like rhubarb. “I think he’s having’ more fun than you might think he is. Would you look at his neck there?” 

Oh. shit. Walter snorted, ignoring the gagging noises Jesse was making. “Don’t worry about that. He.. er.. met a nice girl in the hotel last night. It was.. a bit of a humbling experience, actually. Realizing my son has better, uh, I believe the term is ‘game’ than I do.” 

The woman let out a loud laugh. “I don’t believe it, sir. I’m sure there’s plenty of ladies after you, a family man with such a good relationship with his son. But, I assume you’re married, seeing as…” She trailed off.

Walter shook his head, feigning sadness. He was enjoying this, making Jesse squirm. “She passed away, sadly. It’s just the two of us now. But we manage.” 

“Oh, you poor dears.” The woman held her hand over her heart. They talked a bit more, and after that she walked away, leaving Jesse and Walter alone. Jesse was staring at him intently. Walter went to say something, but Jesse stopped him, hissing. “Shut up. What the fuck, man?” 

“What?” Walter asked back.

“What the fuck was that story, dude? How does it come to you so fucking easily to lie like that? Fuckin’ psycho.” Jesse said, now angrily picking at the piece of pie with his fork. Walter scoffed. “If I wasn’t able to lie this well, we would have been arrested a very long time ago.” 

“Yeah, but that’s to the police, so it’s like, different. There was no reason to lie to this woman. Especially not to tell her that you’re my dad.” was Jesse blushing a bit?

“What does it matter?” Walter asked. 

“It’s just weird. Especially since we… you know.” Jesse said, now obviously blushing. He took a bite of his pie and immediately recoiled. “Ew. this shit’s sour!” 

Walter fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “Come on, Jesse. Finish your pie. We have to get back on the road soon.” 

Before they left, Walter bought Jesse an ice cream cone, and while they drove through the corn fields again he explained in basic terms how pasteurization worked. All Jesse did was scowl at him. What could he possibly be so mad about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be Jesse's point of view. I wanted to illustrate how out of touch Walter is with the real world. I hope that came through alright. Thanks for reading, and sorry for the wait :( my depression is beating me up and stealing my inspiration. I'm trying to write a little bit every day, though.
> 
> edit im gonna b real with yall but the lack of engagement from readers is making me want to stop writing this. what's the point if nobody's gonna read it anyways


	9. Cross

Jesse was a mess. He felt disgusting and just plain wrong. He had allowed himself to be used in such a way by Walter fucking White, or Heisenberg, or whatever this fucking part of his personality was called. He wondered if there was even still a difference between the dude who used to be his chemistry teacher and the guy who had jerked him off last night, humming to him about being a good boy or whatever. The guy had probably had it in him all along, just pretending to be normal until he got that cancer diagnosis and decided that fuck it, he might as well go completely nuts.

That night had been too heavy, he didn’t even want to think about it. Too much went on. The next day was horribly awkward, a long car ride where neither of them said much. Then, they had breakfast at some farmhouse, and Mr. White told the woman who worked there that they were father and son, and that they were on a road trip together. They even laughed about the marks on Jesse’s neck and collarbones, as if Mr. White hadn’t put them there himself. And then, as the metaphorical cherry on top of the pie of fucked-upness, the dude had bought him an ice cream cone, like he was actually his kid. Made him gag. He could barely keep the one cup of coffee he’d had down, bile rising to his throat every time he thought about kneeling down on that dirty hotel carpet, begging to be touched and praised. He eventually threw the last bit of ice cream out of the moving car’s window, and Mr. White lectured him about littering for what seemed like hours. 

They switched cars again in Iowa, drove through Illinois into Indiana, and switched drivers while Mr. White took a nap in the back. Jesse kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was just about everywhere else. He could turn the car around right now. He could do that. He could leave the car in a ditch somewhere, Mr. White still asleep, and run back into the road, catch a ride to a nearby city and check into a motel. He’d use a fake name of course, he wasn’t an idiot. But then, dejectedly, he realized that a great escape wouldn’t have much of a point. Where would he even go after that? He didn’t have anyone else left. Aunt Ginny had died years before, his parents didn’t want anything to do with him, Jane… well, Jane had... happened. He might as well follow the old guy into certain doom, ‘cause, well, he was going to die either way.

At some points during the drive he could look over Lake Michigan, sun reflecting in the waves and dancing on the walls of houses and the cars driving past. It made him feel oddly serene, despite everything. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, he felt at peace, even if it was just for a moment. No Mr. White looking over his shoulder and telling him what to think. Just him, and the water, and the other cars on the road. Though sadly, soon the road took him away from the lake and back onto the highway, where a disgruntled Mr. White woke up and told him to stop at the nearest gas station so they could fill the tank and grab something to eat. Jesse said nothing, because there was no real reason to, and even if there was, it wasn’t like the other man would listen to him. He felt humiliated, degraded and ashamed. He never wanted to be back there in that hotel room, drawing a fucking picture because he wanted to be praised so badly. Never again. He could never let himself sink that low.

If Mr. White noticed anything about his inner turmoil, he didn’t bring it up, instead dully staring out the window, remarking on the fact that they hadn’t passed a gas station yet. When they finally did, it was located next to another smaller lake, and they bought sandwiches and sat down on a wooden bench looking over the water. Jesse chewed on his bacon sandwich with his eyes closed, far too aware of every time his teeth grinded against one another. 

“You know,” Mr. White started, studying his sandwich as if it were a scientific experiment, “You very well may have saved my daughter’s life.” 

More empty praise. Jesse racked his brain trying to remember what even happened those couple of days ago, but he couldn’t. So instead he took another bite of his sandwich, glad that his nausea had gotten a bit less bad, and shrugged. “Oh.” 

“When we were staying at that camping site. It was so cold, and it was raining, and they only had one tiny blanket left at the camping store. You know what you did, Jesse? You remember?” Mr. White asked, patience like he was a cop asking a child if they saw anything suspicious. Oh yeah. Jesse looked down at his sandwich again, eyes unfocused. “I gave Holly my coat.” 

“Yes! Exactly. You gave Holly your coat. Throughout that night, despite staying in a little tent in bad weather, she stayed all nice and cozy. If you hadn’t given her your coat, she could have caught a cold, and she could have gotten sick.” Mr. White explained all of this as if it was anything more than common decency to give a small child something to keep them warm. Jesse crouched down, grabbing some pebbles from around the bench, and started throwing them into the lake, one by one. He didn’t know how to skip stones, so he just threw them instead. Mr. White watched him from behind, amused. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What am I s’posed to say? That I’m sorry? ‘Cause that doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Jesse said, shaking his head. He felt Mr. White sigh behind him, the wooden bench creaking as he shifted his weight. “Of course not. I’m just.. putting it out there, is all.” 

“Well, you don’t have to, you know.” Jesse snapped. “I don’t need your approval for everything I do.” 

Mr. White held his hands up in defense. “Of course you don’t. Of course. Forget I said anything, actually.” 

Silence returned to their little corner by the lake and Mr. White drank sweet tea while Jesse threw more pebbles and small stones into the water. Jesse was careful not to let himself enjoy it too much, because before long Mr. White would probably start talking again, and the moment would be ruined. Indeed, after he finished his sweet tea Mr. White stood up, took a few steps towards where Jesse was standing on the shore, and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Toss your phone, too.” he demanded coldly. Jesse shot him a look. “Why?”

“I’ve done it as well. They can trace your calls.” Mr. White said, without actually explaining who ‘they’ were and why they would do that. Jesse supposed it could be the cartel, although tracing calls sounded more like something the police would do. Jesse shrugged, and first switched the phone on, just to check if he had any messages. And he did. Three missed calls from Mike, no voicemail left on any of the attempts. It felt wrong, somehow, to just throw his phone away. What if Mike had something really important to tell him? He’d helped them out the last time as well, giving away the critical piece of information that Gus and his men were after them. What if he had another one of those tips? Mr. White was starting to get impatient, arms crossed. Jesse quickly went into his contacts and memorized Mike’s number the best he could, repeating the numbers in his head over and over as he swung his arm and plunged his phone into the lake. Mr. White squeezed his shoulder. “Good job, son. Let’s go.” 

Mr. White drove again, and while he did he explained to Jesse how they were going to cross the border to Canada. They were going to cross the border at Sault Ste. Marie, which housed a large bridge over St. Marys river. There, they would have to pay toll, around five bucks as far as Mr. White knew. When Jesse asked why, Mr. White explained that the money was probably used for the bridge’s maintenance costs. It all freaked Jesse out a bit, to be honest. What if they were asked for their ID? What if their car was checked, and it was revealed that they had stolen it? Even worse, what if they searched the car and found the duffel bag with thousands of dollars inside of it?

“That’s not going to happen. If anyone talks to us, I’ll speak with them, think of some story like I did for that woman in that restaurant. Don’t worry about anything. Just don’t… fidget. If you look nervous, they’re more likely to assume you’re hiding something. Remain calm, and everything will be alright.” Mr. White said. Alright, Jesse could do that. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes until Mr. White tapped his shoulder, signalling that they were nearing the toll booths.

Jesse sort of folded in on himself. This was it. After this, he couldn’t back out anymore. Couldn’t escape from the car and sleep in some motel. Once he crossed the border, he pretty much couldn’t get back on his own, sure that the police would see him sticking out like a sore thumb the moment he drove past them. Now, his life would consist of staying in Canada in some small village, with Mr. White, probably going fishing every day and putting maple syrup in snow or whatever they did over there. Right now he was wishing he’d paid attention in Geography class in middle school, so he would at least have a vague idea of where he was.

Mr. White spoke to the woman in the toll booth all low tones and chuckles, even managing to make her laugh as he handed her some money. Jesse looked around and down at his lap, basically everywhere except at the tollbooth. They got the signal to drive onto the bridge, and as soon as they did, Mr. White squeezed his arm so hard it hurt. “You were acting very nervous. You're lucky that the woman in the tollbooth couldn't see you from up there. You need to remain calm. Can you do that for me, Jesse?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jesse said, but to be honest he really didn't know if he could. Mr. White seemed to sense his hesitance, so he softened his grip on Jesse’s arm to a comforting squeeze. His hand was warm, the complete opposite of this car’s AC, which flowed uncomfortably right on his neck, making him all shivery and uncomfortable. “We’re almost there. We’re almost safe, son. Just focus on that.” 

Easier said than done, Jesse thought, but he continued trying to breathe slowly while Mr. White rubbed his arm. This was nice. He wasn’t going over any boundaries for a change. Mr. white went over their plan once more- at the other side of the bridge they would usually have to show their passports and tell the officials how long they would be staying in Canada. Mr. White would try to distract them with conversation. If that didn’t work out, they would try to find an opening and drive through without saying anything at all. Then, they would ditch the car again, now that it had been seen by cameras, and find a place to sleep for the night. It was indeed getting late, sun starting to go down and making the reflection on the waves even more beautiful.

As they neared the end of the bridge Mr. White squeezed his arm once more and then reluctantly pulled back while they pulled up to another booth. Mr. White was speaking, but Jesse didn’t really register the words, focusing on keeping his breathing even. He was shivering, and he had his arms crossed to stop them from moving on their own. Mr. White tried the whole chuckle and charm routine again, but it didn’t seem to work out, because the next moment the car was suddenly accelerating, and there they were, flying through the streets of Sault Ste. Marie at a speed much over the limit. Mr. White traversed the streets calmly, with an ease Jesse hadn’t expected. They cut people off, ran red lights and were soon out of town and back in the country. They rode, and rode and rode without stopping for a very long time until finally Mr. White steered them into a small inham in the woods and helped Jesse outside of the passenger seat.

It was colder here than it had been in Michigan, and the ground was filled with pine cones as they stepped out of the car. They were at a small parking lot next to the entrance to a hiking trail. There were a few picnic benches here and there, but none of them were occupied, as by now it was fully dark outside and all the hikers had probably gone home. Mr. White sat him down on one of the benches while he went back to the parking lot, presumably to scout for another car they could steal. Jesse buried his head in his hands. The only thing he could do was repeat Mike’s phone number in his head over and over, terrified he would forget, although he wasn’t sure why that would be such a bad thing. Far away, he heard Mr. White having another one of his coughing fits, the sound echoing in the trees. 

His head was pounding, but all he could do was repeat the number again. Everything was going to be fine, as long as he remembered the number.

-

Walter was at peace.

Everything had gone well. They had crossed the border into Canada safely, and were now on their way to their final destination, a nice small town to settle down in. The agents at the border had given him a bit of a scare, he had to confess, with all their questions, demanding to see their passports and his drivers license, as well as some proof that the car was actually his. So, naturally, he’d continued on their conversation, waiting until the guy inevitably got paged by a coworker. The moment the man in the booth was distracted he’d accelerated and their car had carried them all the way to a nice deserted parking lot on an almost empty tank. There were a few cars there, belonging to people who were camping nearby. Easy pickings. 

Jesse had behaved exceptionally well all day, remaining silent and shuffling along behind him, doing whatever Walter told him to do. He even threw his phone into the lake. After they reached the forest parking lot Walter again commanded him to steal a car, and while it took a while to find one without an electronic lock it worked out, and they were quickly back on the road. Their resting place tonight was a nice motel where They both showered and slipped into bed, exhausted. Jesse laid on top of his covers, curled in on himself like a cat, shivering. Eventually it got so bad Walter could hear his teeth chattering from the other side of the room. He sighed, and reluctantly got up, sliding under the covers in Jesse’s bed until the boy was snugly in his arms.

The shivering stopped after that. Maybe Jesse really was sick, and it wasn’t just a convenient lie Walter had made up during one of their motel stays. Well, nothing a bit of fresh air couldn’t fix. Walter had a specific village in mind that he’d visited back when he himself was a kid. They’d just drove through it back then, he and his family, but he still remembered seeing dried fish lying on the coast, nothing much more than a little locally owned supermarket and a church. He didn’t even know if it still existed, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

His lungs were getting worse by the day, and he was coughing up blood again. But he didn’t mind. If he were to die, he would die with the person he adored most by his side. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered that he’d started all of this for his family. But it couldn’t be helped. Skyler had access to all of his money except for the one bag he’d taken with him. What more could she want that he could offer? Skyler had been a lovely wife and mother, but she didn’t trust him. He couldn’t live together with someone who didn’t just believe him when he said something. Jesse, however? 

Jesse was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost over y'all


	10. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two men move into a small canadian village together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's really long sorry about that. also there's still a few typos in here but I'll fix them in the next few days.. just wanted to post already
> 
> enjoy!

The village was as if no time had passed at all. Walter was in awe when they first drove into the valley it was situated in- nothing had changed! The houses were all wooden and painted white and light blue, and in the middle of the village was a river which flowed right into the sea just around the corner. There was a town square of sorts where there was a little supermarket, and two tiny churches stood in the village, one on either side of the river. The sun shone brightly, making the sandy ground around them look pure white.

“This is it, Jesse.” Walter said, unable to hide the happiness in his voice. Jesse got out of the car, a nice range rover they’d bought from a shady car guy a while back, wearing star shaped sunglasses and chewing some gum. He stretched, yawned, and looked around. “This all?

“It’s nice! It’s nice and quiet, and we’ve got all the amenities we could possibly want.” Walter said, gesturing to the little town square. Jesse followed the way his hand was pointing and shrugged. “Alright. How’re you gonna get us someplace to crash, though?” 

“Simple: we’re going to ask the locals.” Walter said, and he walked around the car to get their stuff out of the trunk. Their clothes had really begun smelling a few days ago, so they’d bought whole new outfits at another gas station. Jesse’s hair was at it’s old length from when they’d first started cooking again, and he had a new hoodie and some new t shirts and jeans. Walter himself had resigned to cargo shorts, since despite the stereotype Canada could still get really hot in the summer. He got their regular bag and the bag of money, and while he was making his way over to Jesse he started coughing again, wheezing and trying to get himself under control. Before he could, though, Jesse’s hand was on his back, rubbing it calmly. He sighed, murmured his thanks and walked towards the square, Jesse following him leisurely. 

The people in the little supermarket did indeed know of a house that was for sale, and seemed really happy to see that someone was interested in it. Apparently, it used to belong to a man who had since passed away, and his granddaughter was selling it. Walter got the woman’s address and they immediately walked over there, Jesse again taking his sweet time, sipping a lukewarm soda he had retrieved from under one of the car seats just before he got out. There was a drop of sweat running down his face, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Walter huffed.

The woman selling the house turned out to be very glad someone wanted to take it off her hands, and gave it to them for only a couple thousand bucks. She herself requested it to be in cash, so him retrieving the cash from his bag wasn’t suspicious. The house itself was small, and needed to be painted badly, but it had everything they needed, including a wooden canoe the woman said they could have. When she finally left after showing it to them, Jesse jumped down on the couch, yawning loudly. He took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes. 

It was finally starting to get to Walter that they had reached their goal. They were safe in Canada, and hadn’t been followed at all. He had bought the house under a fake name, which could be their new identity from now on. Davies. It was a fairly common surname, but not so much so that it would arouse suspicion. He had briefly considered ‘Heisenberg’ as a kind of fun inside joke, but if Gus’ men would come to this town and hear that there was a Heisenberg family living nearby they would surely get caught. 

“Did you hear what she said? There’s a boat out back.” Walter said, trying to make conversation. Jesse nodded but didn’t get up from the couch. 

“Yup.” Jesse said, popping his lips on the letter ‘p’.

“What? Why are you acting like this?” Walter asked. Non-combative, was what he meant. But he wasn’t going to say that, obviously. Jesse was just going to misunderstand, and think it was an insult. 

“I’m not acting like- you know what? Nevermind. I just. I don't even want to talk about it.” Jesse said, looking down at his hands. 

Walter sighed. Didn't Jesse understand that he did everything for him? That he risked his life, his family- heck, he didn't even have any contact with his family anymore. And all that just to protect Jesse. Walter knew he was going to die. He was okay with that. Before he threw his phone away, he had called Skyler once more. She seemed worried for him, asking where he was and if he was in danger. At the beginning of the call, she had attempted to sound like she didn’t care, but as he explained that this would be their last contact, he heard her muffled gasp on the other side of the phone.

“What about us?” She had asked, and he told her that the money she had in the car wash was all of the money he had saved up for her and their family, and that she could use it for whatever she wanted. She could pay for Hank’s treatment in full, get Junior whatever physical therapy he needed, put Holly through college.. buy a new car, whatever she wanted. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem grateful. Instead, she yelled at him through the phone. “So that’s it? No more contact? Never again? Holly will never know her dad?” 

“I thought you didn’t want Holly to ever meet me.” Walter said wryly. Skyler sighed again, and continued, softer than before. “I didn’t. Not at the time at least. But.. if you are willing to go this far to protect us.. then that has to count for something.” 

He could hear that she had put a lot of thought into this, probably lying awake at night instead of getting that sleep someone taking care of a baby desperately needed. Walter could see her face clearly, all tired, blonde curls framing her beautiful face as she held the phone in her hands, clutching onto it as if it were the only thing keeping her standing. 

“Skyler. I would do anything for you. You know that. I would climb the highest mountain in the world if only I could visit you and the kids at the top. Not even visit, scratch that. Get a glimpse of you. Know that you’re alright. Do you understand?”

“I do.. it’s just..” Skyler said, exasperated, “I don’t understand what part of you is saying this. My husband, Walter White, or.. Heisenberg? Is there even a difference between the two anymore?”

Walter scoffed, but Skyler continued. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. But I can’t stop thinking about what you’ve become. Part of me is happy that we’ll never be hearing from you again. Maybe now we can move on.” 

Walter sighed, closing his eyes, mobile phone against his ear. “Goodbye, Skyler.”

“Goodbye, Walter.”

At the end, she’d wanted him. Not the money, but his presence. It was oddly flattering. But it was also something he couldn’t give to her, so he decided not to think about it anymore and instead focus on the problem at hand. Jesse. What did Jesse want? He didn’t care about money, didn’t care about their beautiful new house, or fishing- 

Hey, fishing.

“You want me to teach you how to fish?”  
-

Jesse learned how to fish. In the first few weeks of them settling in, Mr. White bought both of them a fishing rod and took him out to where the river met the ocean. There, they sat on large rocks and Mr. White explained to him the intricacies of waiting for just the right moment to reel in a fish- how to differentiate between the feeling of a fish bumping against the hook and actually biting into it. It was.. nice, gave him something to do on the days he spent mostly on his own.

Because, well, after the first few weeks of ‘domestic bliss’ in their new house, Mr. White’s condition took a turn for the worse. He was hacking and coughing up blood and little bits of flesh, was lethargic all the time and barely ate anymore. A few weeks in, and Jesse started to realize that Mr. White had stopped getting up from their shared bed in the morning. 

All he did was lay down in their room, curtains shut, staring at the wall even though they had a small TV that worked just fine. In the morning, Jesse would slip out of bed, get dressed in his raincoat and boots, and he would take the boat out to fish. Then, in the afternoon he would return with whatever he caught, and go into town, handing out whatever they didn’t need at home to their neighbors. The people in town weren’t too well off, so there was usually at least one family that could do with something extra to eat. And even if they didn’t need it, they could just freeze it for later. The rest of the fish he would take home, where he would cook dinner for himself and Mr. White, and they’d eat it together in bed, while Jesse talked about his day and Mr. White stroked his fingers through Jesse’s hair, which had gotten long by now.

After dinner, Jesse would slip back into bed with him, and they’d lay together with their legs tangled. Sometimes, Mr. White would kiss him, kiss his neck and everywhere but he didn’t really have the energy to suck hickeys onto him anymore nowadays. Jesse didn’t mind, though. He kept silent and nice and pliant and if Mr. White wanted to make out with him he let him. If Mr. White wanted an extra dessert that was just fine. If Mr. White wanted to lay on top of him and fuck his thighs while moaning his ex wife’s name then who was he to say no to that? Dude was practically a walking corpse, except for the fact that he didn’t walk much anymore either. 

There wasn’t even anything romantic or sexual about it at this point, Jesse was pretty sure. Maybe the guy just wanted to embarrass him, show his dominance in one last ‘huzzah’ before his body would eventually collapse from the lung cancer. It was a weirdly lonely experience, because except for the aura of darkness surrounding his house, it was basically as if he were living alone. During his trips to the river and ocean to fish he felt at peace, because as long as he was in his boat nobody could touch him. During his trips to the town he felt free as well. People inquired about the old man he lived with, and why they never saw him outside anymore, and Jesse would explain that he was a bit of a shut-in, to be honest. They never asked what his relationship with Mr. White was, but from the way the people eyed him as he walked onto the town square, a look of pity and confusion, they had probably just about figured it out. 

There wasn’t even anything romantic about the thigh-fucking. Maybe not even anything sexual. It was really just a sign of dominance. But Jesse was too tired to argue, not physically but mentally. He didn’t want to fight back, and even if he did, he’d just feel guilty. It was like when aunt Ginny was dying- those last few months.. at that point he let her have anything she wanted. Nice food? He’d cook it for her. They couldn’t go to restaurants anymore so he did what he could. But she always liked it, or at least pretended to, and thanked him for every meal, even if it was the least he could do. Mr. White never thanked him, he just laid there, eyes glazed over, hands thin but still able to hold his arms in a vice grip over his head at night.

All in all it was fine. Well, it wasn’t fine, obviously, but he could deal with it. He could live this way. As long as he had his calm moments during the day he didn’t mind going back to that clammy bed, willing the shakes away as Heisenberg slept beside him. 

Then, one day, he remembered the phone number.

It came to him almost as a prophecy. He was out hiking, and it was drizzling just a bit, and the trail he was on lead him to a little wooden bench looking out over the sea on a cliff. The trees surrounding him shielded him from most of the rain, yet the bench was still wet when he came to it. Thankfully, he was wearing a raincoat and matching pants, so it didn’t matter. 

He sat down, and looked over the sea. It was storming just a tiny bit, and far away above the sea he could see dark grey clouds moving over and under each other as if they were fighting to get to their destination first. The wind blew through the leaves of the trees loudly, and below him the waves hit the stone beach with loud claps not unlike thunder. It was beautiful, and loud, and for a moment managed to top all of the noise in his head. 

Rain trickled from his hair over his face, and it felt refreshing. For just a moment none of the stuff happening to him seemed to matter. If only he could stay in this moment forever, in the rain, with the loud thunderclaps and the rustling of leaves.. If only he could escape.

There was a small voice in the back of his head saying that he could.

He still remembered Mike’s number- although it didn’t seem to have any reason anymore, he still recited it in his head once in a while, whenever he felt himself panicking. If he’d call Mike, he could just for a moment tell someone everything. Mike wouldn’t tell on him, ‘cause he was just as deep in shady business. Plus, Mike was trustworthy, if his last few actions had been any indication. He had helped him and Mr. White escape, and before all that, took him on those missions of his, trying to help him get sober and realize that Mr. White was a bad person, or whatever. The point was that the guy genuinely meant well, even if he didn’t show it in the most conventional ways. He was more of a weird, stoic grandpa, who still loved his grandkids at the end of the day.

If he called Mike, he could tell him about his daily routine, and that he’d taken a liking to fish and chips, and how good he had become at rowing, despite never having done it before he came to Canada. He could tell him about Mr. White, and how Mike had been right all along (well, he wouldn’t say it like that, but that was what it came down to it), and just about the general weird vibe he got from their shared home. Like, whenever he walked up to it, the sky looked like it was about to rain, even if it was sunny just a second ago. 

Jesse snorted. Mike would probably yell at him about how he was putting him in danger just by calling him, and would tell him to just grin and bear it, or something. That sounded like something Mike would say. So it would probably ultimately not have a point. 

But he still kind of wanted to, anyways. Just for some semblance of normalcy. 

For the first few days, he didn’t do anything.

Then, one day he came home after yet another hike, hung up his coat and took off his rain boots, and realized he had a knot in his stomach. He was actually, seriously afraid to enter the bedroom. He’d thought about it before, briefly, about the chance there was he’d find a corpse one day, but never before did it hit him so clearly like this. 

And he found that he wasn’t ready for it. Despite everything, the feeling like he was being choked, the way he always had to be on his tiptoes, their voyage here, everything Mr. white had done to him.. despite all of that, he still wouldn’t be able to deal with finding the guy’s corpse. Actually, the mere thought of it felt suffocating.. Would he have to call the police? The hospital? Or would Mr. White want him to get rid of his body as to not attract any attention? What if he called the hospital and they did a check on him, and they found out that his DNA matched the DNA of a drug lord in New Mexico? Would they even have Mr. White’s DNA on file? Maybe his wife- Skyler- had given it to them after Mr. White disappeared. He didn’t know why she would’ve done that, but from what he knew about her, she seemed a bit psycho, accusing him of selling Mr. White weed. Mr. White did seem to speak of her fondly, but that could mean just about anything at this point.

It was destroying him to have nobody to tell this to. He was all alone in his head, and it felt like if he would think any more thoughts his brains would explode. So, one warm evening he made his way over to the gas station near town that still had phone booths, put some coins in, and dialed the number. It had been raining that day, but now the sky was clear and it was dark, and above him there were thousands of stars, ones you really couldn’t see clearly back in the city. The wind rustled softly through the shrubs near the highway, and it was just a bit chilly in a fleece vest, shorts and rain boots. 

“Who are you, and how did you get this number?” came Mike’s gruff voice on the other side of the phone. Jesse bit back a gasp. It was him! He’d remembered the number correctly! 

“It’s me!” Jesse yelled, and then facepalmed at his own reaction. He lowered his voice and tried again. “Uh, it’s Jesse, I mean.” 

“Jesse?” Mike asked, sounding uncharacteristically surprised. Jesse didn’t even know the guy could be surprised. “Why are you calling? What happened? Where did you go?”

“It’s a long story.” Jesse said, laughing awkwardly. He looked around at the highway and the gas station. Inside the little shop, a sole employee was cleaning what looked like a slushie machine. He felt relieved. They couldn’t trace payphones, right? That was sort of the point of a payphone, he’d imagine. Besides, he didn’t think Gus would make someone bug Mike’s phone. Mike was more of a mercenary, as far as he knew. 

“Well, we’re safe. That’s the most important thing, I guess. It’s fucking weird here, though. Mr. White is-”

“Walter White is there with you?” Mike almost yelled. He spoke the name like he was disgusted by it. Jesse was a bit taken aback. “Uh, yeah. Not at the phone, though. He’s back home. He’s like, dying. From the cancer, this time.” 

“Cancer? What- where are you two? ‘Home’? What does that mean? Talk to me, Jesse.” Mike said. Jesse raked a hand through his hair, looking around nervously again, even though there was no chance Mr. White would be able to walk this far, if he even knew where Jesse was in the first place. 

“Uh, we like, bought a house from this lady whose dad died. She’s really nice. She invited us to church and everything. Didn’t go, though. Mr. White said it would be suspicious if only I showed up, cuz he can’t walk anymore. Well, he can walk to like, the bathroom and stuff. But that’s about it, I think.” Jesse said. 

Mike was silent on the other side of the phone for a few seconds. Jesse could hear him moving around, like he was sitting up from a chair or getting out of bed. It was night, after all. Maybe he’d been asleep. Old people went to bed early. His aunt used to go to bed super early too, making him do the same even when he wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d always done that, even before she got sick. “Why are you staying with him?”

Jesse thought about it for a moment. “Dunno, really. There’s not really a point to leave anymore. It’s not like he’s going to make more meth anymore. Plus, he’s dying. For real this time. I can’t leave him to rot in that bed.”

“Why not?” Mike asked. 

“It’s just common decency.” Jesse argued. “You’re not gonna leave a dude to die on his own. Like, what if he would still live for months, but instead he’d die of star- of starvation, ‘cause you weren’t there to cook for him?”

“Listen, Jesse. That guy is nothing but bad news. You need to get out of there, find yourself some place to live out the rest of your life, find a girlfriend, have some kids, if that’s what you want. You shouldn’t stay in that place a second longer. You hear me?” Mike said. His voice was so loud through the speaker again, Jesse had to hold the phone a few centimeters from his ear. 

“Like I don’t know that.” He said. “I’m not an idiot.” 

“Yes you are.” Mike said. “You’re too fucking good, you know that? That guy ruined your fucking life, and you’re feeding him, keeping him company, while he’s dying from a disease he’s been wanting to die from from day one. Just grab your stuff and get out of there.”

Jesse twirled a strand of his hair around his pointer finger. The person working in the gas station’s shop had now moved on to mopping the floor. This wasn’t as calming of a conversation as he’d thought. Maybe he could go to that church the lady from the house had recommended to him, and go into that booth where there was a priest on the other side. Those priests swore an oath that they couldn’t share what they heard with anyone, right? 

That was a far better idea. He was almost out of change for the phone, anyways. He was about to hang up, when Mike stopped him once more. “Come on, kid. At least tell me what country you’re in.”

Well, it wasn’t like naming the country could hurt. Canada was huge. Jesse shrugged. “Okay. We’re in Canada. Bye, Mike.”

“Goodbye, Jesse.” 

Satisfied, Jesse put the phone down, and got out of the booth, walking back into town. The sky really was beautiful here, huh? The sky wasn’t pure black, but rather a very rich, dark purple. The stars differed in size, and were all around. For a moment, he wished he knew astrology, or whatever it was called, so he could point out all of the constellations and stuff. Although that really wasn’t any fun on his own, so it didn’t really matter either way.

He walked through the town, and over the gravel road towards the stone beach, then up the little elephant trail up to their cabin. Inside, he took his vest and boots off, and went into the kitchen, cooking some milk in a pan with some anise seeds, a trick he’d learned from one of the ladies in town. Then, when it started to cook, he took it off the fire and poured it into two mugs, which he carried to the bedroom.

In the bedroom, he almost dropped the mugs, because Mr. White was sitting up in bed, staring at him. 

“You’re late!” the man sneered, and Jesse reflexively cowered a bit, before straightening himself out. 

“I don’t have a curfew, do I?” Jesse asked, attempting to be cheeky, but Mr. White didn’t soften his expression for a second. “Where were you?”

“I was in town.” Jesse answered, which wasn’t a complete lie, since he had just walked through it. “I brought back that book I borrowed from Léonie.”

He had borrowed a book from the lady they bought the house from, a book about how to recognize different types of rare fish that lived in Canada. But it was still safely in the boat, under a tarp so it wouldn’t get wet in the rain. Mr. White squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, but then his whole face seemed to soften, like he’d forgotten what their conversation was about. “What’s that you have there, son?”

“Oh, uh, anise milk.” Jesse said, sitting down next to him on the bed and handing him a cup. Mr. White had lost a lot of weight, but he hadn’t really noticed it until now, sitting next to him without being under the covers. The rest of the evening was uneventful enough, even if Mr. White had a bad coughing fit again and spilled his milk all over the bed. Jesse helped him into a chair and changed the bedsheets, all while rambling about a deer he’d seen on one of his hikes. Mr. White was listening, but didn’t actually seem to hear anything he said.

The next morning he got up again, Mr. White warm against his back and still asleep. He made toast and eggs and put it on the chair next to the bed, put on his outside clothes and went out to the boat, rowed out and slipped the book out from under the tarp, looking at the pictures of all of the different fish while his fishing rod occasionally made noises signalling that there were at least fish out here, even if they weren’t interested in his bait. 

The pictures of the fish were expertly done drawings, which briefly reminded Jesse of a bad thing before he took a few deep breaths and ignored it again.

At the end of the day he came back satisfied with a bucket full of trout, book under the tarp again. He felt oddly giddy about it, like it was his little secret. His book. Even if it wasn’t really his, and he still had to give it back to Léonie. Though, knowing her, she’d probably let him keep it if he asked. That’s why he never asked.

Coming up the hill he realized there was something wrong.

There were two cars parked outside the cabin as far as he could see, and he could hear the chatter from a police radio in the distance. Confused, he quickened his steps and walked inside, only to find some cops standing in their living room talking to each other. They barely seemed to notice he was there. He put the bucket down on the kitchen table, the water inside of it sloshing around as he did so. Where was Mr. White? Was he alright? What had they done to him?

With renewed effort, he ran into the hall, to the bedroom, where Mr. White was sitting, shirtless with his ribs showing, hands cuffed behind his back. A cop had her gun drawn and pointed at him, one was calling someone on his radio, and a third one was holding Mr. White’s hands. None of them seemed to notice him, except Mr. White, who looked at him with eyes full of hatred, and almost growled, snarling a “What did you do? Jesse? What the fuck did you do?”

Jesse shook his head, taking a few steps back. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t know what’s happening!” 

At that moment, one of the police agents from the living room came up to him and told him to calm down, or something along those lines at least. He wasn’t really listening, everything around him was vague and muffled except for the cold, hateful stare Mr. White was giving him. He racked his brain for anything he did the past few days that could lead to someone finding out their location. He hadn’t done anything suspicious in town, unless buying groceries was suspicious now, and he hadn’t even gone inside of the church yet, much less actually talked to a priest. The only thing he could possibly think of was his conversation with Mike, but he couldn’t have known where he was, could he? No, that wasn’t possible. They had gone through all of this trouble just to be untraceable, throwing out their phones and buying the house with cash. They lived a quiet life, not too quiet to be suspicious but not too loud to draw attention, and Jesse hadn’t done anything bad to make someone have a grudge against him, as far as he knew.

The police agents in the bedroom eventually wheeled a stretcher into the room and put Mr. White on it, uncuffing him only to cuff him to the metal sides of the stretcher, one arm on either side. He struggled with his legs for a bit, but there really wasn’t any energy left in him, gasping for breath and coughing after just a few half hearted kicks. Meanwhile, the policewoman from earlier helped Jesse sit down at the dining table and offered him a glass of water, which he took a sip from.

“Are you arresting him?” he asked, voice soft, defeated. The policewoman nodded. “He’s a very bad man, Jesse. Although I’m sure you know that.” 

He wondered how the woman knew his name. Maybe Mr. White told her. “Am I getting arrested too?”

“No, of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong.” the woman explained. “We’re going to take you to a place where you’ll be checked out, see how you’re doing. After that, you’re going to be treated so you’ll feel better.” 

“Treated?” Jesse asked. He felt a bit patronized by the woman talking to him as if he were a child, but he was so tired all of a sudden that it was a bit nice to not have to pay as much attention to the conversation. He laughed, but nothing more than a sad sounding chuckle came out. The policewoman tilted her head. “Is something funny?”

“Well, not really.” Jesse said. “It’s just, he was right. He told me I was sick, back when we were in the hotel together. I thought he was just making it up, but treated means I’m sick, doesn’t it? So he was really right, in the end.” 

The woman didn’t reply, instead writing something down in a little notebook he hadn’t noticed she was holding. 

The next few weeks were a blur. He was taken to a strange, small sort of hospital where he was questioned a lot. He answered truthfully, as far as he could, leaving out any details about people like Badger and Skinny Pete, because he didn’t want them to get into any trouble. Oddly enough, the police didn’t seem very interested in Mr. White’s history with cooking crystal meth. Most of their questions were about how their little road trip started, how they crossed the border to Canada and how they came to live where they did. The story about Holly seemed to shock them, but the weirdest thing was how careful they were with him, like he could just break at any time. Any time he told them something he was reminded over and over that he didn’t have to answer if it was hard, and they could get back to it later.

There were lots of medical tests too, asking him when he had used drugs for the last time. They all seemed surprised when he revealed that he had been sober for quite a while now. A bit embarrassing was having to explain the bruising and general irritated skin between his thighs, which horrified the people looking at him. It was all a very odd situation, and Jesse just sort of floated through it, not really able to focus on anything in particular. Days went by without anything new happening. When they asked questions, he answered, but that was all. He found himself missing his daily conversations with the townspeople. It was oddly lonely in the hospital.

Eventually, he was released. He got a complimentary bag filled with a few changes of clothing and some books from his room, among other things like a toothbrush and a comb. When he asked if he was going back to his old house, the doctor shook his head. He explained that there was someone coming to get him. That someone turned out to be Mike, who stood outside of the gate by his car, and looked oddly relieved to see him. 

“Your hair has gotten really long.” Mike commented. Jesse wanted to reply with something along the lines of ‘and you’re still bald’, but didn’t feel like it would be appropriate in this situation. So instead he shrugged. “Yeah, Mr. White likes it like this. I dunno.” 

He missed Mr. White, strange as that sounded. Missed taking care of them. Even missed their nightly cuddling sessions. Mostly though, he felt really, really empty. Mike grimaced at him and patted his shoulder, leading him into his car. Jesse didn’t know where they were driving, and Mike didn’t say anything, so all he heard was a talk show on the radio about endangered frog species. 

The guest on the show was enthusiastically talking about how their legs were different from any other kind of frog, but Jesse wasn’t really listening anyways. He still didn’t know what was going on. “Where are you taking me?”

He only asked it after hours of driving, after the sun had gone down and the moon had come up. They were driving through some national park now, but the sky was still less clear than it had been in the village. Mike made a vague noise. “Back to your old home, the one that used to belong to your aunt. Saul told me all about it. ..Unless you don’t wanna go back there, of course. You can stay at my place for a few weeks if you want to. Gus doesn’t have a problem with you anymore. Well, he still doesn’t like you, but I’ve convinced him that you won’t get him into any trouble.” 

“Uh, thanks.” Jesse said. 

“No problem.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Jesse suddenly asked. “Bringing me home, I mean. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Mike huffed. “It’s the least I can do.”

He didn’t elaborate further, and Jesse didn’t ask. Much later, it finally clicked that Mike had somehow found out where they had been staying, and had been the one to call the police. Maybe that was what he had been feeling guilty over. Jesse wasn’t mad, though. Not because he necessarily agreed, but because he really didn’t have the energy to argue. 

Eventually they took a break at a motel, where Mike got them two different rooms, and told him to stay out of the minifridge. This happened every evening on their way back home, because whatever Jesse did, Mike wouldn’t let him drive. It was oddly nice, and by the time they were back in New Mexico Jesse was almost feeling like a person again. Mike dropped him off at his home, but went in with him first, checking the place for any drug paraphernalia. He did this while on the phone, promising some stranger on the other side of it that he didn’t have to worry about Jesse, because his brain had been fried. After the house came up clean, Mike said his goodbyes, and Jesse laid down on his own bed for the first time in months. Rolling over on his stomach and smelling the pillows.

It smelled like home.

-

Walter White, or ‘Heisenberg’ as some others knew him, was being kept in a high security prison. He had late stage lung cancer, but the moment he was arrested they started treating him for it, and he had been alive for a few months past his first life expectancy now. He was never getting out, as far as anyone was concerned. His charges were many, illegal drug development, drug dealing, murder, domestic abuse, stealing cars, et cetera et cetera. It got kind of big in the news actually, because people didn’t typically expect an older man with a terminal illness to be doing all of these things.

When questioned, he wouldn’t answer. Thankfully, there was already enough evidence against him, so that wasn’t a problem. All he did all day was stare out into nowhere. He didn’t eat the food provided to him, so he had to get a feeding tube. It was a miserable existence, and he didn’t have much contact with others at all. 

Except for one person. Every month, he had a visitor. Even though he had committed many crimes, the prison wasn’t heartless, and allowed someone to visit him. And he always came, on the exact same day of the month, always carrying some kind of gift like a home baked cake or a bouquet of flowers. This homemade food was the only thing White would eat. His visitor would sit with him, divided by glass, and they would hold their hands up to the glass, trying to get as close as possible to each other.

The visitor was young, and he had short trimmed brown hair. He wore a leather jacket and seemed to be an all-round upstanding citizen. The staff in the prison sometimes talked amongst one another, theorizing what his connection to White was. They always had weird conversations, too, fantasizing about growing old together.

“You know, that’s one of the perks of being here.” the young man once said. “They’re treating you. So you won’t die.” 

“I was at peace with my death.” White spoke, and the young man rolled his eyes. “I kno-ow. But still. Now we can try again, I mean. This time without you lying in bed all day. You could actually come fishing with me.” 

White sighed, and managed a soft chuckle. “That would be nice. Do you think you’ve surpassed me in fishing skills?”

“Most definitely.” The young man said. “I’ll show you one day. Alright? Just hold on for a little bit longer.” 

Then, they’d say their goodbyes, the young man leaving his bouquet there so White could put it in a vase in his cell. While he was leaving, he would look over his shoulder once again, and White would quip something at him, the last thing he would say until the month after, when the young man would visit him again. “You cut your hair awfully short, by the way.” 

The young man shrugged, not a care in the world. How he wasn’t scared of this serial killer nobody was certain. “Don’t worry, it grows fast. Mike just prefers it like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! I'M FREE! free from jesse/walter hell. thank god. hi. hello
> 
> uh, MASSIVE thanks to everyone who left reviews while I was writing this, and massive thanks to everyone in the writing server I'm in for cheering me on. You know who you are B)
> 
> God, it feels so weird to finally have finished it. this took AGES. anyways, let's get on to the formalities.. please leave a comment or some kudos if you enjoyed, please leave anonymous fic requests [here](https://www.thiscrush.net/~evilsexdemon) and my twitter is over [here](https://twitter.com/dickmaggots). 
> 
> thank you all for going on this journey with me. I appreciate it.


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